


Fragments

by neytirijade



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Faith Lehane is bae, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, H - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Original Character(s), POV Buffy Summers, POV Lesbian Character, POV: Faith Lehane, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Rating: M, Relationship(s), Romance, S&M, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytirijade/pseuds/neytirijade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of alternate realities in Faith's life. AUs, pre, mid & post-canon; every chapter a new idea; based on a prompt table from LJ's lover100 community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She Claims She's Not Romantic

**Author's Note:**

> Foreword: Every chapter will be new. Most are Buffy/Faith, just Faith focused, meaning there will be quite a helping of angst. Points of view will vary. Timelines will vary- some pre-series, some post-series, some within certain episodes. Some will consider other Buffy material as canon (such as the comics or Go Ask Malice). Basically, it's just gonna be random from here on out.
> 
> Additional things: I am my own beta. Anyone is welcome to message me if they'd like to beta. Until then, feel free to give me a heads up on any mistakes that I didn't point out myself.
> 
> Go check out the prompts I'm doing at lover100.livejournal.com/33883.html & if you'd like you can put in a request for any prompts I haven't done yet. I'll be doing all of Table B, and a few chosen random from A and C. 
> 
> Lastly, warnings will be added as they appear. Chapters containing sensitive subjects will include a forewarning in chapter notes.
> 
> Enjoy, and don't be shy about leaving a review. You don't know how appreciated it is to hear what you guys think. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the paragraph spacing issues you'll find here and there throughout the chapters- copy and paste just doesn't want to cooperate. I'll fix it eventually. :3

Prompt #1 of the Livejournal community lover_100 OTP prompt table: Romance.

It's like this: Once you know Faith, there isn't much else you learn about her that you feel, somehow, you didn't already know. When you find out about her love of horror movies- "a wicked adrenaline rush", she calls it- you wrinkle your nose in distaste, but smile while you watch her explain with childlike excitement. Or when you discover her fascination with pornography. You rolled your eyes, but you're certain she saw your embarrassed smile and the blood that colored your cheeks pink.

It hurts you to see the flashes of fear in her eyes when you move over her in your lovemaking, but you knew all along what that was about. So you lean into her, careful not to put too much weight on her. You stroke her face gently, and leave soft kisses on her skin so she knows that no one, especially you, will ever hurt her again.

It doesn't surprise you, not really, when she tells you she's always loved you. You'd developed a close friendship, and nervously expressed your longing for more, afraid she may not feel the same. She takes your face in her hands, says, "About goddamn time," and gives you the sweetest kiss you've ever had.

No, those things don't surprise you. What does surprise you, though, is when she begins to openly express her need for affection.

It was shortly after the battle with the First. You were in Los Angeles, at the Hyperion with Angel and his crew, and had been discussing your next plans of action. Faith was mostly quiet until Giles had asked her what her plans were. Willow offered to clear her police record, to keep her from having to go back to prison. You all nodded your agreement when she said Faith was welcome to stay with you, wherever you planned to go.

Faith was quiet for a long moment, and she spoke, with a tremble in her voice, a heartfelt thank you and apology to each and every one of us for her past actions.

In the quiet after she finished, you glanced around at the others' smiles before Willow cautiously enveloped Faith in a hug. You'd have done the same, expecting Faith to pull away, or maybe even a bit scared she'd lash out. But you smiled when she wrapped her arms around Willow in return, and when Xander joined the hug and thanked Faith for her words.

You had all laughed when she, in the middle of the huge group hug, murmered the words, "Thanks, you guys.. But I kinda can't breathe."

It seemed like that was how Faith's walls began to tumble. She built them a long time ago, having been hurt too much and too early in her lifetime, to not have them there. The first time around, you didn't try hard enough to get past those walls. But now, they're hardly remembered, and they're most certainly not missed.

Sometimes you wonder if she, subconsciously, is trying to make up for the affection she had never had in her life previously. But you know that, in every touch, is a thank you. Thank you for being here, for letting her in, for forgiving her. She's still the same Faith you all met in the alley behind the Bronze years earlier in some ways, but those walls that came tumbling down brought out the true Faith. The one you all can't imagine your lives without.

You sit with her on the couch, your fingers combing through her hair as you watch some romantic comedy Willow picked out. Faith's head lay on your lap, and her legs drape lightly across Willow's. You try to pay attention, but mostly you breathe in Faith's touch, and the light loops of the Sharpie marker she uses to draw on your skin.

Often, Faith apologizes for her lack of relationship experience, thinking she's doing something wrong or that there's something else you want that she doesn't know how to give. You look down at your arm and see the intricate rose drawn on your skin, Faith finishing the words, "Love you" underneath, and you smile. She claims she's not romantic- she doesn't know how. But you know she's the biggest liar in the world.


	2. Finally Got Your Chance to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: Beauty

There was a quote I really loved in the A Song of Ice and Fire novels- maybe the first or second, I can't really remember. I can't remember the exact quote, either, which pisses me off. But it basically explains seeing a woman who you think is a deity in a human body; "the goddess made flesh" or some shit. I do remember how it made me feel, because when I read that, I immediately pictured Buffy.

 

See, Buffy has always been the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. A goddamn angel sent to earth. It was hard for me to come to terms with those feelings I had for her; I went batshit crazy before I was able to.

 

I could see beauty in every move she made. One of my favorite memories of her, we were in the courtyard of Sunnydale High. I'd been trying to get her to admit how much she loved slaying- though we did have different feelings about it, I knew she loved it more than she let on. I remember the way she blushed and smiled, trying to hide both from me. It made my heart burst to see it, and still does to think of it now.

 

When we'd patrol together, I'd revel in the way she moved. Angel once told me I was just as beautiful when I fought, and I shrugged that off with some ridiculous comment.

 

But he continued: "Buffy is graceful. Her moves are careful, calculated, precise. But you let the Slayer take over- and, granted, that wasn't always the best course of action- it still put you in your own category. You were fierce, and wild. Unrestrained."

 

I thought about asking him what we looked like fighting each other, but after a moment, I didn't have to.

 

"Incredible," he stated.

 

Another memory of mine that I favored, a picture in my mind that made my heart speed up, was that night before Graduation. Call it fucked up- I'm certain it probably is. But Buffy was like a warrior goddess, scented of leather and death (is that what she would smell when she stood close to me?) as she held my knife in one hand. I don't remember much about what I was thinking or feeling (I'llkillyoufuckyouloveyoudestroyyou) besides the pain and anger (shedoesn'tloveyou) she brought out with that first punch. But I do remember thinking, in the moment I looked from the knife that stuck out of my skin and back up to the stunned look on her face, "My god, Buffy, you're magnificent."

 

One more that elated me and killed me at the same time was the look she gave me at Angel's. That gaze of death she cast my way when my lips quivered that name that had haunted me for so long. A thought crossed my mind several times during that encounter with her- a thought that I'd had before, and certainly would have again.

 

I bet you'd look the most beautiful while you killed me.

 

Sometimes I'd counter that thought with the fantasy of watching her die instead- not truly, but watching her la petit mort from my own hands caressing her skin. Taking her, claiming her as mine.

 

But that will never happen.

 

As I sit in the grass, along one of the chainlink fences, I think about the words Angel said to me when he visited yesterday. I take a deep hit from an almost burnt out cigarette, staring up into the sky as the dull ache in my chest, that began just a few days prior, burns with my lungs.

 

Goddamn, B. I bet you were a sight, diving into that portal. Prolly looked like an angel then, huh? Finally got your chance to fly.


	3. Make a Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #3: Forgiveness

Faith exhaled another wisp of smoke. "Good kids, but now that they're Slayers? Goddamn. Makes me wanna throw 'em off this roof…" She stops short.

 

My eyes had moved to her face, and I watched her for a few seconds. I think I heard her mutter an apology, but I smiled at her.

 

"You're all big on the accepting responsibility now, so when are you gonna admit that you definitely threw *yourself* off that roof?" I laughed.

 

Her eyes- angry? Hurt?- snap back to mine. "Bitch," she smiles, nudging me with her foot.

 

We share a laugh; light, but enough to relieve us both from any possible tension that's been coiled between us for so long. Actually, if I'm honest.. now it just makes room for another kind of tension that's lingered in the air between Faith and I, but I'm not sure I'm ready to figure that out just yet.

 

We're both quiet for a few minutes, each of us leaning back to gaze at the horizon. 5 am, and the L.A. streets twinkle and bustle with activity. The sun should be coming up soon- my Slayer senses beginning to dull as the "night life" begins to dwindle. I see Faith shiver lightly, her muscles twitching as she stretches, and I know she can feel it too.

 

Her eyes meet mine, and I wonder if that's not the only emotion we're sharing right now.

 

I take a shaky breath as Faith turns her gaze to the sky. Suddenly, her hand smacks me lightly on the knee. "Make a wish, Blondie."

 

I shoot her a glance of inquiry, and she nods upwards. "Shooting star."

 

Looking up toward the sky, I know the star disappeared long moments ago. But I'm trying to avoid the burn in her eyes, so I search the stars for my wish.

 

"Don't gotta tell me, if you don't wanna. Me?" Faith inhales deeply, flicking her cigarette butt over the edge of the roof before pulling her knees tight to her chest. She doesn't continue; she just stares out at the city.

 

I'm half ready to ask, but after a few minutes, I don't have to.

 

"I'm just hopin' I'm strong enough to keep from losin' it again. I wanna spend the rest of my life, if I have to, making it up to you… and everybody else I've hurt," she adds. She still doesn't look at me.

 

Long minutes go by. I'm looking out at the city, above at the stars, to my right at the crazy, incredible woman next to me.

 

One of the newbie Slayers is here, informing me that Giles was looking for me. I move to follow her back down the stairs, but a voice stops me.

 

"Hey B?"

 

I turn to Faith, who's still seated on the ledge but now turned to me and poised to follow as well. I walk closer, stopping just a foot or two from her.

 

When she looks up at me, her eyes are soft. Not hard or guarded, not angry or frantic like I've been used to more often than not. Her skin is softer than I expect, too, as she lightly traces her fingers along my jaw, causing my muscles to tremble.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Faith's not looking into my eyes anymore, instead watching her fingers cup my cheek, her thumb brush across my bottom lip.

 

My hands move to her jaw, tilting her head upwards as I step closer. There's not even one step, one shred of hesitance- in either her or me- when I press my lips against hers.

 

Her other hand flies to my hips, lightly gripping the waistband of my jeans as she lets out a quiet moan against my mouth. We taste each other, nothing but light flicks at each other's mouths, for a few moments before I pull away and brush her hair behind her ears.

 

My eyes are soft now too. "You don't need to spend the rest of your life making it up to me," I simply state. "I forgave you a long time ago." Her eyes are hesitant, but I continue.

 

"As for that wish? Never thought it'd come true in just a few minutes."

 

I leave a lingering kiss on her lips, and smile before turning to leave.


	4. Wish You Never Met Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ride will be angsty and include slightly graphic depictions of self-harm. If this offends or triggers, please have an employee assist you off of the ride. Thanks!
> 
> This chapter will be a combination of #4: Regret and #5: Discovery. There was also a Buffy/Faith Oralfxations challenge a few years ago called “Faith Finds Out” that this will fall into, though it wouldn't be an official “entry”.

Your blood boils; a cauldron of rage bubbling under your skin. Your breath, already a slightly visible plume of smoke, is now a thick white heat escaping your lips and into the Scottish air. And your heart? It burns among the ashes of what’s left of it.

Looking toward the castle walls, you don’t hear Kennedy next to you, asking what you’re doing. Don’t feel her smacking at your arm. You don’t see her follow the direction of your sight.

“Dude, what the fuck? You pissed Buffy is fucking Satsu and not you, or something?”

You hear that, and the sarcasm in her tone of voice. In a flash, she’s pinned to a tree, and your hands lift her and tighten around her throat.

Kennedy’s shock is visible in her eyes before she raises her knee and jabs you, hard, in the ribs. It makes you step back and double over for a split second, then you rise and slam her to the ground with a right hook before walking back where you came; away from the castle, from Kennedy, and from the woman who just broke your heart.

How many times have you placed your heart in her hands, only to have her crush it and smile as its blood drips between her fingers?

Apparently not enough for you to learn. You’re a fucking idiot, and you’re done allowing Buffy into your heart. Your life, your thoughts. No more.

You’re sobbing the moment you know Kennedy be out of earshot. You didn’t hear her follow you, and silent tears had slipped down your face until you were far enough away. You keep walking, and you keep sobbing.

It’s raining; not too hard, but enough that, by the time you’ve walked another 10 minutes into the woods, your clothes are drenched and strands of wet hair fall over your face.

You stumble further and further away, rain mixing with tears. Hate mixing with heartbreak.

It’s probably been a good hour now. They’re probably all wondering where you are; ha, what a fucking joke, you think to yourself. Nobody gives a shit about you. Nobody wants you here. You’re the murderer, you’re the dark one. You were always the second string Slayer, the fuckup, the slut. Now, you’re probably bottom of the fucking barrel according to Buffy and her band of Slayers.

Screaming violently, brutally; lashing out at the closest object. Your blood is faintly visible on the tree trunk you hit, but washes away in the rain. Your voice is hoarse from your screams, and most of your knuckles are broken and even protruding from your skin.

You feel yourself break another knuckle and collapse against that same tree trunk, sobbing into your bloody hands.

Time passes. You and Kennedy went in search of an arrow that went awry during target practice at barely 4 in the afternoon, and now the full moon brightens the darkness, just a little.

Doesn’t brighten yours, though.

You smoke eight cigarettes, one after the other. The rain has stopped, but it’s colder now. You shiver as you unsheathe the dagger from your boot.

Sucks, ‘cause these are new jeans. You’ve cut through them on your thighs, and you’ve probably cut through several layers of skin, given the amount of blood running down your legs.

If you hadn’t been such damaged goods, Buffy could have loved you. If it weren’t for Angel, you’d have jumped through hoops to get her to love you. You bruised and battered each other because she didn’t want you to kill him. Because she wanted him, and not you.

That was the first heartbreak by her hand.

She looked at you like you were a killer after Alan. Like you were the lowest piece of garbage in the can. Like how everyone else looked at you.

Then she made a half-assed attempt at “helping” you. And when she discovered you had been in league with the Mayor, she didn’t do a goddamn thing. She and Angel tricked you into revealing your plans, the boss’s plans. Didn’t even care.

Second time, it wasn’t a break. Instead, she’d rammed a stake through your heart; guess she figured you should know what it feels like, too.

The knife in your gut didn’t hurt as bad as the knife in your heart. Third.

Nobody, not Giles, not Wesley. Not Buffy. Shethey didn’t visit you at the hospital. They killed the Boss; the only person to love you other than Diana.

Fourth time.

Didn’t care to try and talk some sense into you when you came looking for revenge. Five.

She refused to see the tears in your eyes as you told her, go ahead, put me out of my misery. Wouldn’t listen when you poured your heart out to her on Angel’s rooftop, and told Angel that he shouldn’t allow himself to get arrested over you. And she didn’t say a word, or even look at you when you approached Kate to tell her you wanted to confess your crimes. She walked away. Six.

Never visited you. Your letters to her were returned unopened. Didn’t want you when you came back to Sunnydale for the battle on the Hellmouth, or care that you tried to stop everyone from kicking her out. Hit you just a few hours prior. Didn’t thank you for helping.

The list goes on, and so does the amount of damage you endured by her hand.

As much as you regret the people you hurt, the people you killed; mostly, you just wish you’d never met Buffy Summers.

Your legs are stinging; you’ve stopped counting the times you dug the dagger into your jeans and into your skin. You wipe the blade on the wet grass, sheathing it into your boot again and lighting a cigarette as you watch the blood soak your jeans and the grass beneath them.

On your third cigarette, you sigh because there’s one left and you have to walk to a shop and get some. No way are you going back into that castle.

“Faith!”

No. No, no, no. No fucking way.

Buffy is at her feet, tenderly pulling away the tattered strips of your jeans to reveal the halfway healed cuts; and the countless number of previous scars that line your skin.

“God, Faith, why did you do this to yourself?” She asks, and you almost fucking laugh at the lie of concern on her face.

But you stare ahead, Hit your cigarette. You don’t acknowledge her presence.

She sits next to you. “Kennedy told me you tried to hurt her. She said you were angry.”

“Mm.” A frustrated noise is all you can reply with.

“She said it was because you saw me and Satsu kiss. Why did it bother you?”

Finally, you look at her. Because I fucking loved you, B. You don’t say it, but the look in your eyes does. Hers widen, and she looks down. She knows.

A few seconds go by. You hit your cigarette. Throw it to the ground.

You stand, and you walk away, feeling the pity in her eyes as she watches you leave.


	5. Fire and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6: First Meeting.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, this is another “post-Chosen Buffy and Faith hungry and horny” scenario. I was hoping I could stray from it.. but frankly, I’ve run out of ideas for this prompt after mulling over several for the last few days. Plus, it is a really hot scenario. :P
> 
>  
> 
> Slightly graphic/gratuitous/sexy sex ahead.

It was one week after the battle with the First when Faith brought it up.

“We just both need to get laid, Blondie. Prolly should just fuck each other to get it over with.”

I nearly spit out my beer, but I keep a straight face. “No offense, Faith, but I like my sex partners of the male variety.” I don’t sound convincing, and we both know it.

Faith just shrugs. “I usually do too. But the pickings are slim, honestly. All the hotties either fled LA or have been previously claimed by the Juniors.”

True, I think to myself. The Potential Slayers- well, now the Slayers- have certainly made themselves comfy with the “horny” aspect of slaying.

The both of us sit at the bar, watching a few of them now. Dancing, making their way around the club. Faith and I have been scouting for guys too, but have been losing in the luck department. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not much interested in casual sex- but after the fight in the Hellmouth, every single one of us had some tension to work off. With each day that goes by without any relief, Faith and I just get more wound up.

The other Slayer next to me just sighs, finishing off her beer and rising from the bar stool. “Well, you spot any potential candidates, lemme know.”

I nod, and out of the corner of my eye see her disappear. Then, I feel her press into me from behind, and she leans in close.

“Feel like handling this little problem on our own, you know where to find me.”

A shudder goes through me. I clench my thighs together. This time, she moves away from me, and I turn to find she’s actually left.

Shit.

-

So that’s how we found ourselves in this current predicament. A few hours after that conversation, and I decided to head home. A few minutes from the club, down an alley near a close by convenience store, I find Faith fighting six vampires.

It begins to rain hard, the skies illuminated with lightning. Loud thunder rumbles through the area as we finish off the vampires.

We’re breathing heavy; they certainly put up a good fight. The rain got me soaked, and I’m shaking from the cold. More so from the tension that’s increased tenfold. I look at Faith.

Her eyes look black as she stares back at me. She kinda looks like she’s about to eat me alive, and somehow I find myself okay with that.

I find myself up against the wall of the alley, Faith pressed hard against me as her fingers grip my waist. She looks at me with a question in her eyes, and I’m sure she finds no hesitation in mine. She presses her lips to mine. Her mouth is like liquid fire, and it makes me moan.

It’s not long before we’ve got fingers buried deep inside each other. Faith is absolutely drenched, and I don’t mean from the rain. From the lack of difficulty it takes to slide her fingers inside, then out, then in again, I’m fairly certain I’m just as wet.

Both of us come quicker than I’m okay with. I feel empty when our fingers leave each other. But Faith kisses me again, hard and hot, our tongues dancing and fighting for dominance. Then she takes my hand, and my lips curve slightly, because I know this is just the beginning.


	6. The Next Best Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7: Hardest Truth

The hot water doesn’t burn my skin anymore. Double meaning in the words “thick skin” now, but I’m too numb- again, literally and figuratively- to even crack a smile at that inside joke.

I loathe when Buffy looks at me anymore.

There was a time- really, just weeks ago- when I’d do anything to get her to look at me. To see me. Yeah, most of it was acting like an idiot and saying whatever I knew would get her cheeks to turn that delicious pink. Always knew how to get a reaction.

Turning off the water, I shiver slightly at the cool air hitting my skin now. I dry off, I wrap the towel around myself. Stare in the mirror.

Now, when she looks at me, all I see in her eyes is pity. Disgust. Apprehension. Repulsion.

It kills me to finally realize it, though I shouldn’t have been so stupid. So naïve. I’ve made a point to never let anyone carve their way into my heart; the only exception to that was Diana. Maybe it was a sign, her death, something from the universe showing me how truly alone I’m destined to be.

I get dressed.

Buffy will never love me.

My makeup is heavy again. Pull on a pair of dark jeans- not entirely sure they’re clean, given that I only own three pairs of pants and don’t often have the money to use the laundromat down the street. Stolen or… otherwise. Certainly never claimed I hadn’t been around the block.

How could I have been so stupid; falling in love with the epitome of light, of smiles and sunshine and good? If she’s a goddess, I’m a fucking trash bag on the side of the road.

I’m sliding my leather coat on, and out the door seconds later.

The way she looks at me, the things she probably thinks of me; it’ll all probably get worse when she and her little gang of nerds find out I’ve switched teams.

What can I say? Thin line between love and hate. They’re both feelings of passion, aren’t they?

If I can’t get Buffy to love me, then I’ll do the next best thing.

Interesting that there’s still movement inside City Hall. That alone should tell you something’s not right. After I’m pointed in the right direction by a woman at the service desk- pretty sure she’s not vamp, but she ain’t human- I walk down the hallway, and my steps don’t falter.

Really, I should have seen it from the start.

Buffy will never love me. She’ll never want me. To her, I’ll always be the second-string Slayer. A foster case to pity and look down upon from her perfect little pedestal, alongside her perfect little friends. Inside her fucking perfect little life.

I knock on the door, and raise an eyebrow when it opens. Neither of us show any surprise. “You sent your boy to kill me.”

“That’s right. I did.” He’s not gonna bullshit me. Maybe he already knows why I’m here.

“He’s dust.”

The Mayor nods. “I thought he might be, what with you standing here and all.”

If Buffy won’t love me, then fuck it.

My eyes darken even more. I can feel them go colder.

“I guess that means you have a job opening.” It isn’t a question. And it doesn’t come out as one.  
He gestures for me to enter.

Fuck it.

I’ll make her hate me.

I’ve got nothing left to lose.


	7. What Do You Need Mistletoe For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #8: Resolutions

Willow raises her eyebrow. “What do you need mistletoe for, Faith?”

  
The brunette is hesitant, trying to think of a good cover. “I don’t… I just, yunno… Thought it’d be cool to hang it somewhere and mess with people, yunno?” Faith runs her hand through her hair, hoping Willow had had some alcohol already and wouldn’t notice the tremble in her hands.

  
“Yeah… yeah, that would be fun!” Willow replies, trying to hide her smile at Faith’s nervousness. She hands the other woman the dried leaves. “Don’t go making anyone kiss Andrew, though… Or Giles,” she shudders.

  
“Ugh, Willow, God!” Faith recoils. “Why would you put that in my head?”

  
The redhead just laughs. “Sorry. Oh- Kennedy’s off limits too, missy!” She points at Faith to illustrate her point. The girl in question raises her hands in surrender.

  
“Ain’t gonna, Red. She’s all yours.”

  
With that, Faith turns to leave the kitchen, with Willow watching in curiousity and wondering just what Faith had in mind.

* * *

 

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck, oh damn…

Faith can’t help how nervous she is. She’s had a thing for Buffy for years. The two of them had been flirting back and forth since the collapse of Sunnydale, but Faith had never had the courage to make a move until Kennedy urged her forward.  
  
“Dude, just grab her and kiss her. Pretty sure there’s an 100% chance she’ll kiss you back, and then some.”

That gave Faith enough motivation to do it. She’d wanted to kiss the blonde… and other things… so badly, for so long, and she wasn’t waiting anymore; possible rejection be damned.  
  
But now, as Faith watched Buffy lean against the far wall and smile as she took in the swing of the New Year’s Eve party, the brunette was having second thoughts.  
  
An elbow in her ribs jolted Faith from her daze. Kennedy held a bottle of champagne out to her, along with two, sparkly clean champagne glasses.  
  
“Offer her a drink,” Kennedy said. “You got the mistletoe?”  
  
Faith just nods, taking the champagne and glasses. “What if she turns me down, though, Ken?” She looks nervously at the younger girl.  
  
Kennedy just smiles. “She won’t. I know it.” Another nudge. “Go do your thing, Lehane.”

* * *

 

Here goes nothin'.

“Ain’t got nobody to plant one on this year, B?”  
  
Buffy turns to find Faith approaching, a champagne bottle and two empty glasses in her hands and a grin on her face. She leans against the doorway, pouring champagne in each glass before handing one to Buffy.  
  
“Nah,” the blonde replies, nodding her thanks as she takes the glass from Faith. “Never really had one, but I don’t know.” Buffy sips at her champagne with a shrug. “Not sure I ever really saw the point, I guess.”  
  
Faith just smirks, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. “Aw, come on, Princess. Where’s your holiday spirit? Don’t you wanna do somethin’ different this year... Yunno, in the spirit of new beginnings and all that shit?”  
  
With a raised eyebrow, Buffy returns the smirk. “You’ve such a lovely way with words, Faith.”  
  
"Duh.”  
  
Buffy laughs, shaking her head. “And who do you suppose I kiss, Faith?” It comes out in a lower, raspier tone than she meant. Hoping to whatever gods might be listening that her face isn’t bright red, she quickly clears her throat and tries to cover it up: “Andrew? One of the baby Slayers?”  
  
Another smirk, and a shrug from Faith, before the brunette looks around the room at the others; almost a nervous glance before turning to Buffy again.  
  
Faith gently takes Buffy’s glass from her hands, and turns to put both glasses- and the bottle of champagne she still held- on the table behind her. Turning toward Buffy again, her smirk becomes a shy smile as she puts her hands on the blonde’s shoulders.

Christ, here goes nothing? Here goes everything.

“Well, no…” Faith begins, as she lightly pushes Buffy from the wall and into the doorway she herself was standing in.  
  
Buffy looks at the taller girl, furrowing her brow as she allows Faith to move her over. “Faith, what are-“  
  
She watches Faith reach above them, her hand briefly touching the ceiling before falling back down again, and sliding around Buffy’s waist. When her hand moves, she can see the leaves of mistletoe Faith left behind.  
   
“No Juniors, B. Was kinda hoping you’d kiss *this* Slayer.”

Buffy’s muscles twitch as Faith softly tightens the grip around her waist. She looks up, and into a dark chocolate gaze.

They both move closer at the same time. It’s an instant spark when their lips meet, and Faith feels like her chest is gonna burst with how fast her heart is beating. The kiss is a pleasant surprise, and they both know in that moment how right it is. Like hearing a favorite song they never knew. Like coming home.  
  
Faith keeps the kiss short, though she wants to do anything but. She pulls back to meet Buffy’s eyes once more.  
  
Though hesitant, the blonde feels spellbound. “How.. how long did it take you to come up with that move?” Buffy can barely comprehend that she was able to speak, her hands moving to each side of the other girl’s face.  
  
Faith seems to blush at that, and it makes Buffy smile. Turning away to glance at the partygoers again, but then once more meeting Buffy’s gaze, Faith gives the blonde a dazzling smile.  
  
“’Bout twenty minutes,” Faith replies. “But yunno, it only took me like four years to grow the balls to do it, so cut a girl some slack.”  
  
Buffy’s hands tangle in thick brunette waves. “I’m really glad it didn’t take you any longer.”  
  
Their lips meet again through heated breath; hands pulling each other closer as they drown in the taste. This time, it’s Buffy who pulls back. “You know it’s not even close to midnight, right?” Buffy smirks, but she continues to let herself melt in Faith’s embrace.  
  
A husky chuckle escapes Faith’s lips, where Buffy’s thumb lightly brushes. “Yeah, well, we can just keep doing this until then,” she says.  
  
She gets a nod in response, Buffy’s eyes closing as they kiss a third time. Faith barely lets their lips part as she says, “So, what’re your New Year’s Resolutions, B?” Her voice is dangerously husky, and it sends shivers through the blonde.  
  
“Probably just this… and lots of other things I never got to do with you until now,” Buffy replies. “Are you gonna take me upstairs and have your way with me yet, or do I have to complain to Willow that you won’t put out?”  
  
Why, you little…

Faith narrows her eyes at Buffy, pulling away slightly to get a better look at the girl in her arms. She flashes a sexy smile, and doesn’t say a word as she slips her hand into Buffy’s and leads her upstairs.

_Meanwhile…._

Kennedy takes a swig from her beer, looking at the cards in her hand. “Fuck. I fold,” she throws them in the middle of the group sitting on the floor.  
  
“Yes! That means you owe me $60, little lady,” Xander replies, flashing his full house in front of everyone.  
  
With a sigh, the younger Slayer just rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Cyclops. Technically you’ll have to give me $40 of it back.”  
  
Xander looks back at Kennedy. “What?! Why?!”  
  
“Because, remember a couple days ago: I bet you $40 Buffy and Faith would be screwing by this time next year? Well, has anybody *seen* the two of them in the last half hour?” Xander’s eye bugs out. “Besides, Slayer hearing is a thing, yunno. I’m gonna be traumatized for life,” Kennedy shudders.  
  
Rona and Dawn, sitting on the couch nearby, just laugh.  
  
“Ugh, gross. I totally knew there was something more to that ‘oh let’s kill each other’ phase,” Dawn comments.  
  
Still laughing, Rona turns to Kennedy. “This time next year? It didn’t even take ‘em but three days!”


	8. Tell Me Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9: Anything

"Tell me something."  
Dark eyes dart over to yours, and she crinkles her brow. "Huh?"  
You shrug, laying on your side to face her. Any other time, you would have been hesitant to touch anything in the motel, much less lay on her bed. Not because of her. You just knew how rare it was to see a thoroughly clean motel room, especially among the cheaper ones.  
But when you decided to stay with Faith and hang out- really, you're not sure why this was the first time- she jumped up to retrieve a plastic bag from the closet, and pulled out a crisp white bedspread to lay over the questionable motel linens where she had just been sitting. When you gave her a nod in thanks, she shrugged it off.  
"I'm used to this kinda stuff," she commented, gesturing toward the squalor of the motel. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna make you deal with it though."  
She laughed it off, and you smiled before joining her on the new spread.  
You'd flicked through the small amount of watchable TV channels, both of you commenting on some of the programming. Once or twice, you had both paused, a flicker of interest in what was on the new channel. Faith stopped at Jerry Springer, and you both laughed and cringed watching two girls catfight over a guy. It surprised you when she flicked on the Discovery Channel; some program about indigenous tribes in the Amazon.  
Again, she shrugs. "The whole living off the grid thing seems cool," she'd said. "Cool weapons and outfits, too."  
When the Discovery Channel flickered until there was nothing left but static, she started scrolling through channels again. You were casting glances her way, still thinking about trying to get more out of her; you'd never really known much about the brunette next to you, and never really tried to. When she mentioned that she had experience in lower living conditions before the motel you sat in now, you remembered the other comments she'd make, here and there, about her life; you were slowly putting the pieces together, and saddened that she'd had such a rough start in life.  
You wanted to know more about this dark beauty perched by your side, clad in leather with sanguine-tinted lips and dark shadowed eyes.  
It was almost cute, her confusion when you decided to go for it. You get it was out of the blue, and a lot of people would react the same. But you just smile at her, getting comfy among the soft down comforter.  
"I don't really know you," you say, praying you can slip past those walls that she shields herself behind, "I wanna change that, you know? I want to know more about you."  
Her eyes darken a bit, and flick over to the TV before switching it off and looking back at you. "There's some things you prolly don't wanna know, B." She stops you as you begin protest. "You've had it pretty easy, and that's not your fault; but you're sweet, and a good person… People like you shouldn't have to find out about some of the awful things in the world, yunno?"  
Faith moves to lay on her side as well, and you watch her quietly until she finally meets your eyes. You try to forget how her "sweet" comment awoke a few butterflies within you.  
Holding her gaze, you touch her hand lightly. "I'm a Slayer, Faith. I know about the evil in the world; natural and supernatural."  
She hesitates, looking over your face for a few short moments. You're almost certain what she's doing; "Why does she want to know? To make fun of me? To hold it against me?" And you try as hard as you can- a comforting caress to her fingers and a gentle look in your eyes- to make her understand you're the last person in the world who would steal her secrets from her, or exploit them for any reason.  
Her eyes finally soften, and you can almost see one of those walls come down.  
"What do you want to know?" Faith asks, quieter than you've ever heard her speak.  
You smile at her. "Anything. Everything."  
That night, you tried to keep it simple. Her favorite color is deep purple, and not black or red like you once may have guessed. She loves The Beatles; she wants to believe there is that kind of love and peace in the world, but it's hard for someone to believe it when they've never seen or felt it themselves.  
You held her hand as she told you about Cera, a pit bull puppy she'd found on the streets and took care of for eight months. When Faith briefly explained that her mom was an alcoholic and drug addict, her eyes lowered and her voice got quiet again, so you cradled her hand in both of yours now. You gripped it tight and moved closer when she told you her mom was high as a kite one day, angry at Faith for some ridiculous reason and locked her in a closet for an entire night. It had been winter, and the ten year old version of the girl with you now had shivered through nearly 10 hours in the darkness. When she was let out, Faith went in search for Cera only to find her puppy's lifeless body on the front porch; left outside in the cold with nowhere else to go.  
Her voice burned out by the end, and after you told her you were sorry about Cera- about going through something like that- you asked her what her favorite movie was.  
As she told you about some action movie you'd never heard of, you decided not to let her tell you anything else painful unless she truly wanted to. She shouldn't have to relive those things because of you.  
Every once in a while, you'd ask again. "Tell me something. Anything."  
\-----  
You were surprised when the reply letter arrived. You opened it with some hesitance, but couldn't help pouring over every word once it was unfolded.  
B,

There's a girl here- drug charges I think- who has scars all over her. She made them herself.

By the time I was 13, I'd had sex more times than I can count. The psychologist here says it shouldn't be considered sex if it's nonconsensual.

I'd had dreams about you before I was called. That Master guy was fugly as hell.

I'm happy you're alive again, but I know something's up. That you're really not happy to be alive yourself. I'm sorry about that. Sorry you gotta come back to this fucked up world.

I miss the hell out of your mom. She was such a badass, and sweeter than candy. Guess I know where you got it from.

I miss you.

I'm sorry.

Faith

You cried that night. For Faith. For your mom. For your emptiness since you'd returned from the dead.

For missed chances and wasted opportunities with the girl who once stood by your side with a smirk, a stake and a whole lot of attitude; who now sat alone in a prison cell.

\-----

You smiled when you remembered. Taking a seat next to Faith- away from the bustle of the newly called Slayers- you turn to her.

"Tell me something."

Her eyes turn to you, almost in surprise. That you remembered, that you still wanted to know. She leans closer to you, and her hand brushes your cheek.

"I'll tell you anything, B."

She tells you more than she could ever say when her lips first meet yours.


	9. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts #10: Home and #11: Intimacy

The meaning behind the word “home” has always been a foreign concept to you. Sure, the exact definition just states that a home is where you live, where you return to at the end of the day. But home is where you feel safe; it’s what you miss during a long road trip, or where you’d rather be than at work most times. It’s often where your family resides, and sometimes, it’s just among certain people or a certain familiar place that’s not technically where you live.

But the truth is, you’ve never had that place. Never had somewhere to call your own, and certainly never had anyone who made you feel like you belonged.

You were only 10 when you first ran away from “home”. It was four degrees below zero, and you barely lasted the 30 minute walk to the homeless shelter. When the doors opened, the volunteer working the night shift looked you up and down. Took in the bruises on your face, the small bag thrown over your shoulder, and your sad excuse for warm clothes before ushering you inside.

It wasn’t much warmer, but you were given blankets. The teenager next to you gave you a look of pity- which you were old enough to already despise- and made light conversation, complimenting your Doc Martins and the golden four-leaf clover around your neck.

Just a few days later, you yanked the chain apart and threw the pendant in the garbage disposal. You hated it by association, because your mother gave it to you, and you weren’t sure if you hated her but you knew you certainly didn’t love her. Especially when she found you hours later at the homeless shelter, came up with some bullshit lie about the bruises she gave you the day before, and yanked you out into the car where you went home and she proceeded to add to those bruises.

Four leaf clovers were supposed to bring luck. 

What a crock.

-

The closest thing to “home” for you was the few short months you lived with your watcher, Diana. It was difficult at first, because she was telling you about all of these impossible and unnatural creatures; that you were next in line to be the one to fight them. You hated the discipline she carried out in order to train you, and you hated how fucking clean her house was. How you seemed so dark, so trashy, so out of place in such a beautiful and peaceful place.

Any semblance of home was ripped from you when Kakistos killed her.

You’d laugh at the prospect of Sunnydale being your home. Even the apartment the Mayor gave you; you knew it was bullshit, the way he cared for you (or maybe it wasn’t? Whatever, he was evil) but you took it because no one else even tried to pretend you were wanted.

Maybe prison could have been considered your home for the few years you spent there. But when you believed home was more of a feeling than a place… Prison wouldn’t even qualify.

-

You’d planned on returning to finish your sentence when the Hellmouth caved in. You were standing on the sidelines while the main group discussed their future plans; finally getting together to make a decision after you all had a week to regroup. You’d ridden it out as long as you could, staying with the others until you were kicked out. 

So when they were making their plans and asked you where you planned to go, you were a bit surprised.

You’d commented that it was nice for everyone to forget the prison sentence you’d not even come close to finishing, and left it at that. Everyone agreed when Giles told you you’d have a place at the new Slayers School or whatever they were planning; that your presence and expertise would be important in training the newly called Slayers.

Pretty surprised, no doubt.

That night, after you told them you’d consider it, Buffy came to your hotel room. When she asked you why you were considering going back to prison, your answer was simple.

“I was sentenced 25 to life, B. Didn’t even serve three,” you took a hit off your cigarette, blew it out the window you sat by, “I still need to pay for the things I did.”

Buffy was quiet for a minute, and you braced yourself for her agreement.

“You already do.” She replied. When you met her stare, she continued at the confusion you displayed. “I can see it in your eyes and in everything you do,” she said, sitting across from you. “You pay for it every second, and it sucks.”

You try to play off your shock. “Yeah, but I deserve it.”

Her hand finds yours. Your shock increases.

“You shouldn’t have to pay for it anymore, Faith. The way I see it, you’ve made yourself into a hero now,” she tells you. “And you can do a whole hell of a lot more good with us than in prison.”

You try to find more answers in her eyes; why did she trust you? Was this her forgiveness? Why would she forgive you for what you’ve done?

Buffy squeezes your hand. “Come with us, Faith.”  
And you’re pretty sure nothing in the entire world could keep you from doing just that.

-

You find it in the Academy in Cleveland. Among the Scoobies- which you never thought possible. In the sea-colored eyes that look at you with more care than you’ve ever felt before. The smiles she gives you, the touches she shares.

Then you find it in her kiss. With each touch and caress of your skin, and each embrace. When you make love, you feel it when her lips brush against every inch of your body. You sense it when you’re inside her, and when she slides inside you. It’s in the laughs you share, the tears; in the secrets you reveal to each other, and every time she tells you she loves you.

You tell her this one day. You tell her it took nearly 23 years.

Her hands brush across your cheek, and you thank her; because with her, with the Scoobs and the other Slayers, in the Cleveland winter and in the heat of the summer, you’ve finally found a home.


	10. You're Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: Self-Love
> 
> Quick note: I'm noticing anything put in italics is not getting translated here. I'll change that later, sorry for any confusion until then!

Faith’s never really been interested in looking too deep into herself; if she has, it’s been accidental, and she’s run from what was found. She avoids too much self-analysis besides the constant belief stamped into her brain:

You’re nothing. A whore. A murderer. No one cares about you because you mean nothing.

So when the prison shrink told her she’d needed to learn how to love herself, she just laughed. And then she stared at the woman as if she didn’t have a Ph.D. in psychology.

The shrink- Eve, she allowed Faith to use her first name- gave her some tips on beginning to change her thought process. She’d told Faith to counter the awful thoughts she had about herself with the opposite thought.

“What are the kinds of thoughts that you often have about yourself?” Eve had asked her.

Faith didn’t immediately answer, instead finding interest on the faux waterfall on the floor in the corner.

“Stupid, unloved, unwanted, waste of life.”

The other woman was quiet for a moment. “Okay. When you think that you’re stupid, instead tell yourself that you’re smart.”

“Why would I lie to myself?” Faith replied. Doing that is what landed me here in the first place.

Eve shook her head. “From what I know, that’s far from the truth,” when Faith scoffs, she holds up a hand to stop any reply before continuing, “You’re working on your GED now, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve excelled quite well so far.”

Again, the room was quiet, and Faith didn’t meet the other woman’s gaze.

“You are smart, Faith. And even if you weren’t? You’d tell yourself that anyway. Building your self-esteem isn’t about living up to your standards of things, nor society’s, nor anyone else’s. It is about feeling good about yourself and living a much happier lifestyle because of it.”

Faith smirks. “So, essentially, it is lying to myself in a way.”

Eve shrugs. “In a way, maybe. But if you do it enough, it will become a reality. You won’t have to counter the thought because it will be a truth to you.”

Faith had tried. She really did. It was difficult when she would try to tell herself she wasn’t the piece of shit she’s always led herself to believe; the way everyone had always treated her. When she did, she could almost hear that voice, the one that told her what a waste she was, laughing in an echo booming through her head. What a bunch of bullshit. Everybody knows you’re nothing. Why try to pretend otherwise?

Right now, it was nearly an hour after lights out. Faith had been trying the things the doc had mentioned: counter thoughts, as well as writing them down or writing down lists of what she was grateful for or what she’d accomplished in life. As for the latter, she only got as far as scrawling I killed a couple people before chucking the pen across the prison yard and ripping the paper to shreds.

Faith had been feeling antsy for days, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She knew it must have been how long ago she gotten to slay; or fight, for that matter. She didn’t fight back when the other prisoners tried to throw down, not anymore.

So she stretches out on the brick hard mattress, listening for the telltale signs of her bunkmate’s slumber before looking around to make sure no one was nearby. She squeezes her eyes shut, a grimace on her face, as she slides her hand between her legs- disgusted at having to get herself off in this place once again. Disgusted with herself, too, mostly.

For now, this is the only act of self-love she can manage.


	11. Kind of Want to Kiss Her Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13: Kisses

Our first kiss is the opposite of romantic; we were both drunk, and it was in the heat of the moment after we dusted a few vamps trying to feed near Lake View. It’s certainly something I’d never want to tell our kids someday. But I figure I need several more years of Faith to myself before we start thinking about it, and she feels the same. At least we’re on the same page.

After a few days of awkward encounters full of teenage crush butterflies and nervousness, Faith finally asked me out. She’d explained later that she had to talk to Willow to muster the courage to do so, and since I’d been gossiping to Will about my attraction to her, Faith was comfortable enough to broach the topic.

I was shocked when I found out where she was taking me. We had a bit of a walk, and there was a light chill in the air even though it snowed while we walked. Faith and I talked a little, discussing the Slayers we were training, among other things. The quiet that fell between us wasn’t awkward, like most first date conversations. It was nice. I think Faith felt the same, especially when she took my hand and looped my arm through hers.

At the beginning of our walk, I spent about ten minutes trying to goad Faith into telling me where we were going. She would just smile and tell me not to worry, that she knew I’d be happy. All I could get out of her was that she’d had the idea looking through the newspaper’s local happenings, and that she’d even run it by Willow who, again, gave her a thumbs up. I pouted for only five more minutes before finally accepting my unknown fate. When I told her this, she laughed, and I swooned at the sight of her dimples.

After about a thirty minute walk, we were joking about our Slaying techniques- both of us refusing to admit that the other was any better. As we rounded a corner and stopped for a few people hurrying ahead of us; there was a decent crowd all filing into the building ahead and I glanced the overhead marquee. I was speechless.

Faith mentioned something about me telling her, back when we first met, that I liked figure skating. I barely heard her at first. When I didn’t answer, she got worried.

“B… we can go somewhere else if you want. The tickets are probably refundable-“

She stopped when I finally met her gaze, putting my hand on her upper arm. It felt like my eyes were all cartoon-sparkly-heart when I shook my head, “No, Faith…” I was breathless, looking at the marquee then looking back at her again. “This is amazing. This is more than I ever could have imagined.”

Her dimples appeared again; a dazzling smile that I’m pretty sure I’d never seen before. And, looking back, I think that was when I began to fall in love with her.

I’d been dreaming of going to Stars on Ice since I was seven years old. I couldn’t believe it.

The show was more incredible than I imagined it would be. I didn’t keep up with figure skating anymore, so I didn’t know a lot of the skaters that appeared. But I practically squealed in my seat when Sasha Cohen’s name was announced, infatuated with her every move during her performances.

My eyes were on the ice more than not, but when I’d look over at Faith, I was surprised to see how much attention she paid to the performance. A couple of times, I’d seen her glancing over at me. She said during the intermission, while we enjoyed our informal dinner of hotdogs and soda, that she wanted to make sure I was enjoying it; and I assured her she didn’t have to. That I loved every second.

On our walk home, I gushed the entire time about the night’s events. Faith watched me, a smile on her face, and mostly agreed with my observations. 

A few minutes before we were back at the Academy, she said something that literally stopped me in my tracks:

“I can’t believe that Sasha chick’s still so good at a spiral. No one else compares.”

When I stopped, she looked anything but surprised. “What, you think just ‘cause I’m a badass who wears leather and owns a motorcycle that I never stopped to enjoy some good old fashioned ice skating?” Faith said, a playful smirk on her face.

I shook my head. “Sorry. I just… Wow.” She smiled again, taking my arm as we continued forward.

The last few minutes home, I was again stunned as she told me she even took lessons as a little girl. She only skated for a few months, but her grandmother- who’d been paying for her lessons- had passed away.

“Mom was too busy spending her money on booze at that point, so I never got to continue,” Faith commented as we ventured up the driveway.

I squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry your mom was such a jerk,” I looked up at her as we stopped at the front gate. She’d told me a few things- not much, but enough- in the past few months to make me wish I could kick the crap out of her mom if she were still alive.

Faith just shrugs. “Nah, it’s all over with now. Still got the memories, which is cool.” She punches in the code for the gate, and it creaks open slowly as she turns to me.

“I’m not sure if I’ll have a chance to do this anywhere else, since there’s so little privacy around,” she says, and she pulls me close to her, one hand on my waist as the other brushes my cheek.

I’m already breathless, as my hands rest on her shoulders and I gaze into a chocolate stare.

“Do what?” I’d kick myself for sounding so harpy if I wasn’t so completely spellbound. Faith brushes my hair behind my ears and cradles my face in both hands.

“Give you a real first kiss,” she whispers. The first, because the second is the whisper of her lips against mine as she gives me possibly the sweetest kiss I’ve ever experienced.

That? Definitely a story worth telling the kids.

-

The first time she tells me she loves me, it’s not following a date, or before making love, or while we cuddle on the couch together during one of our many movie nights.

No, it’s in the middle of Macy’s, while we’re shopping for Christmas gifts.

I know she said it then because she had been nervous about it; even though she told me that had been the case, I knew immediately after she said it. We were sifting through sweaters in the men’s aisle- looking for gifts for Xander and Giles- when she spoke.

“Hey B?”

Looking up at her briefly, I threw a sweater I’d been considering back on the rack. “Yeah?”

When she didn’t immediately answer, I looked back up from the sweaters again. Faith was moving back and forth on her feet, shifting her weight nervously as her eyes scanned nothing in particular and she brushed a hand through her hair.

Resting my hand on her arm, I caught her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” she answered automatically, then looked back at me and sighed.

I was quiet for a moment, looking behind me as a woman excused herself between the aisles we were standing. I took a breath, intending to call her out on it, but she beat me to it.

“I love you,” she said, and when my stunned face turned back to her, she was looking away again.  
My hand moved to her face, and I turned her back toward me. I could have kissed her right then and there when I saw the fear in her eyes. It was one of the things I had both loved and hated about Faith, that she could be so unsure of herself. It had always killed me when she was down on herself, but right now, in this context, it was the cutest thing in the world.

I took her hand, placing a kiss lightly on her knuckles while I watched her brow scrunch lightly.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

Faith sighs. “Don’t make funna me,” she says, and I internally squeal in delight at the tiny whine in her voice. She goes to continue, her eyes moving to the floor, but I tilt her chin up and meet her gaze once more.

“I love you too,” I tell her. Her face reveals a myriad of emotions in just a few seconds- surprise, followed by a slight trace of doubt, before she searches my eyes and accepts my declaration. The dimples appear again.

“Really?” Faith asks, and I nod.

I laugh when it’s her that squeals, and she grabs me and spins me around before placing me back on my feet. Her squeal attracted a few pairs of eyes, but I know Faith could care less.

And personally, as she pulls me to her and kisses me deeply, I decide I don’t really give a fuck either.

-

I didn’t know it was possible to share so many different kinds of kisses with someone before Faith. They’re always full of the same things- love, passion, forgiveness, excitement- but sometimes they become more.

The first time we made love, after we had gotten each rid of each other’s clothes, I spotted something that made my heart clench. I kept my face neutral and flipped Faith onto her back, pinning her to the bed as she protested lightly.  
Didn’t take long for that to cease once my mouth began to move down her silken skin.

When I reached her stomach, I stopped at one of the marks that caught my eye a minute ago. My eyes met hers, and my fingers dipped lightly into the scar just left of her belly button. Faith touched my hands, stilling their movement. “Buffy,” she breathed, and I think she was afraid I would dwell on it too much, or forget that we’d buried our past long ago.

I dipped my head, and pressed my lips to the scar. I smiled as she sighed.

Continuing my descent down her thin frame, I had teased her with a dip of my tongue into her swollen sex. A whimper escapes her throat, and I smirk, feeling smug at her reaction.

Faith moans in annoyance when my mouth moves away, but then she’s quiet again. Because now my lips caress the couple of scars on her thighs; scars I’m sure she made herself long ago. Her hands thread through my hair as I kiss them.

I move back up to her briefly, still intending to finish what I started, to press my lips against hers once more. I look down at her, brushing her hair away from her face.

“You’ll never feel like that again, Faith. You’ll never feel lonely, or lost, or afraid. Never again; not while I’m here.”

I’m not sure exactly what it is in her eyes at that moment, but somehow, it makes my skin even warmer than before, and I need to kiss her again. I decide right then, with her lips moving against mine, that I kind of want to kiss her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This story is set, probably, in the winter following "Chosen"- so late 2003. I'm aware Sasha Cohen was still a bit new to the figure skating world, and definitely not in Stars on Ice just yet. However, I couldn't find out the list of skaters for that year, and Sasha is my personal favorite skater, so.. why not. It's fiction. :)


	12. You Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Alright. Look. I sat down to write this chapter two hours ago, only getting up to walk my dogs and grab some caffeine. I haven't slept in 24 hours, and 14 of those were spent doing housework. Therefore, I should not be held accountable for the possible errors that may appear in this chapter, whether grammatical or otherwise. It might be.. odd. Cheesy. Whatever. Sleep deprivation does odd things to good people. I hope you enjoy it anyhow. 
> 
> Also: isn't it funny that these chapters seem to get longer every time? Peace.
> 
> Prompt #14: Frustration

“So what are you doing for Buffy tomorrow?”

I look over at Kennedy, bending over to catch my breath. “What do you mean?”

She makes an incredulous noise, her eyes going wide. “Um… You know what tomorrow is, right?”

Sighing, I straighten up and look out at the other Slayers running the obstacle course Ken and I had just finished.

“Of course I fuckin’ know what tomorrow is, Ken. I’m gonna… I don’t know, get her some flowers or somethin’,” I shrug.

Kennedy lets out a low whistle. “You know Buffy is gonna be expecting more than some dumb plants that’ll die in three days, right?”

She raises an eyebrow as I pull a pack of cigarettes from my jeans, placing one between my lips.

I look back at her as I light the cigarette, breathing it in deep. “Like what?” I jerk my head to the left, behind us, motioning for her to follow me and Ken laughs as I plop down on the gym bench.

“Ever heard of romance, Faith?” She sits down, stretching her arms above her.

“Duh. Flowers,” I point out.

Kennedy rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re such a lost cause.”

My head jerks in her direction. “Fuck you.”

“Whatever, dude.” She gets up and begins walking back toward the building. “Don’t come crying to me when she makes you sleep on the couch tonight,” she yells over her shoulder.

What? Would B really do that? Fuck.

“Wait, Ken,” I shout back, jogging up to her.

She turns, hands on her hips, smirk on her face. “Yes?”

“What should I do?” I ask, and as much as it pisses me off to see how much she’s enjoying my current predicament, I’d rather make sure tomorrow is as good as it gets for Buffy rather than care about what Ken thinks.

The younger girl just sighs, looking to her left and then back at me. “You want a little help with ideas, Lehane?”

I turn my head and exhale sharply, a cloud of smoke puffing out into the air. “Fuck. Please.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, and motions toward the door. “Come on, Casanova,” she says, knowing I’ll follow, so she doesn’t wait for me.

A wide grin breaks out on my face. I catch up to her, my arm slinging over her shoulders.

“Knew you was my bestie for a reason,” I smirk.

Kennedy knits her brow, looking at my hand hanging down over her chest. She catches my eye. “If you make this in any way difficult, or screw up my plans for Will tomorrow...” She looks momentarily horrified. “Or both, I’m leaving your ass to the wolves.”

“Deal.”

Smirking again, I place the cigarette between my lips to free my other hand, tightening my arm around her neck and ruffling her hair with my fist.

She expectantly pushes me away, a warning in her expression. “I swear to god, Faith…”

I raise my hands in surrender as we stop in front of the door. Ken eyes the dying cigarette I hit once last time.

Grabbing it from between my fingers, she glares at me. “Oh, and if you don’t behave, I’ll tell Buffy you were smoking again,” she warns me, and hits the cigarette herself before tossing it into the grass. I raise my hand in a salute, and again she rolls her eyes and reaches for the door handle.

I laugh, following her inside. I hope she’s good with this shit. God, or… who the fuck ever knows I’m not.

-

How can so many fucking things go wrong in just four hours?

I woke up this morning with a dumb ass grin on my face, thinking of the plans Kennedy had helped me make for today. I’m usually not this happy waking up before 11 am, but hell, I’ve become a total sap these past few months.

Buffy had already gone; she leaves for the Academy around 7:30, so after she woke me to kiss me goodbye, I waited a good ten minutes after I heard her car leave the driveway (she always forgets something here at least once or twice a week) until I sprang into action.

We had only been together for four months, me and B. But not even two months after we began dating was when we decided to move in together. Both of us knew from that first kiss that we were meant to be together- hell, I knew it the moment I first saw her. It seemed quick to the rest of the gang, but they had all supported us a hell of a lot more than I expected.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Trying not to have a total fucking meltdown.

I’d already called Ken. She put me on speaker, and I explained the sitch to her and Will; stumbling over the words in the midst of my freakout as I lit yet another cigarette.

Both of them assured me it wasn’t a big deal, and to just continue with the rest of my plan- which consisted of cooking up a simple recipe for B when she arrived on her lunch break to eat and pick me up for my classes. Willow said she would call the local flower delivery and have them bring a bouqet to replace the misplaced one I’d gotten earlier.

Imagine my freakout when, twenty minutes later, a pudgy dude with a hat that read “Rudy’s Flower Delievery” showed up on my doorstep.

With a bouquet of sunflowers.

Poor dude. Yeah, he shouldn’t have accidentally switched my order with someone else’s, but the key word here: accident. So after I had screamed at him, practically shrieking that Buffy not only had allergies and couldn’t have that shit around, but she also hated yellow- then proceeded to slam the door in his face- yeah, like five minutes later I felt horrible.

And my dumb ass was too busy moping on the ground in front of the door to notice the goddamn food was burning before the smoke alarm scared me to death.

It was dumb to try and save the pasta in the oven, especially when smoke poured out as I opened the door. It was even dumber to grab the hot dish with my bare hands, but I managed to throw it in the sink before I could drop it on the floor.

The pain in my hands only registered second to my absolute devastation as I stared at the sink, now covered in pasta and tomato sauce. I barely hear the smoke alarm turn off, but I do hear the panicked voice behind me.

“Faith, my god! Didn’t you hear me before? What happened?” Buffy is stepping down from a stool, presumably used to reach and shut off the smoke alarm. I can’t properly read the expression on her face right now, among my own turmoil- concern, annoyance, disappointment? And I just collapse onto the floor, a harsh sob bubbling up from my throat as I feel tears streak my face.

I’m crying? The fuck.

Not a moment passes before Buffy is at her feet in front of me, resting her hands on my knees. “Faith, baby, what is it?”

But I shake my head vigorously. “I don’t fucking get it! I don’t understand why everything had to go wrong!” My voice sounds foreign, thick with tears.

Buffy furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I tried so fucking hard to make everything perfect! It’s fucking Valentine’s Day and I wanted to make it special, but I left the goddamn flowers at the store, then the fucking replacements were wrong, and…” I pause to take a breath. “And the goddamn fucking chocolates melted all over the stupid teddy bear I bought, then I burned the fucking baked ziti I tried to make because you like it so much!”

I’m sobbing into my hands- well, my wrists, since my hands are burnt to shit- and Buffy must notice them, because I feel her reach over next to me to flip open the cupboard under the sink.

She lightly takes my hands, squeezing antibiotic ointment into her fingers and rubbing it gently over the pads of my fingers. I’ve calmed down a lot, the meltdown I finally had just minutes beforehand having taken a lot out of me.

Buffy continues to caress my hands, though the ointment had already disappeared into my skin. Her touch is soothing most of what is left of my hysteria, and I can see her watching me as I stare down at my hands while her fingers smooth over them. She’s probably trying to gauge whether or not I’m gonna flip again. I would.

One of her hands moves to my chin, and she tilts my face towards her, urging me to look in her eyes. I’m terrified of what I’m going to see there, if she’s going to be pissed at me for fucking up, or laugh at everything that happened and at me for breaking down.

But when I meet her gaze, I find nothing I expect.

Buffy’s eyes are soft, and her hand moves to my face to brush my hair behind my ear.

“I’m absolutely stunned, Faith,” she says. Fuck. I knew it. She shakes her head at the crushed look I must have on my face. “Oh no, baby, no. I mean that I’m beyond surprised- and happy-“ she enunciates, “that you would do all of this for me.”

She’s got this gorgeous smile on her face, while her hands continue to graze over mine.

My eyebrows pull together, confusion clouding my expression.

“Why? You’re not mad? Not…” I sniffle, and shake my head. “You’re not upset I fucked everything up?”

I get another smile. “Sounds to me like it’s the flower dude’s fault,” she jokes. I let out a strained laugh, my throat sore from crying.

She cups my cheeks, and she pulls me toward her to kiss me deeply. When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against mine.

“I love you, Faith. More than words, and maybe more than I can ever begin to show you.” Buffy moves to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry things got so crazy today, but you should never feel like you have to go above and beyond to gain my affections, or my approval.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m gonna kill Kennedy.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow. I shake my head, sniffing again. “She is the one who talked me into doing all this shit,” I explain. “Said flowers wouldn’t be enough.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you two are close, but why would you ever take advice from her regarding me? Are you too busy checking me out to notice that we practically disagree on everything?”

I grin. “Hey, not my fault. You’re sexy as fuck.”

Laughing, Buffy rises to her feet. “Come on, babe,” she says, careful of my hands as she helps me up as well. She leans in to give me a light kiss. “Let’s clean up. We can grab something to eat on the way to the school.”

I turn to the cooking mess I left on the counter, but she stops me, and pulls me in for a deeper kiss. Her lips still tickle mine as she speaks, “I love you.”

Ignoring the light burn of my hands, which are already healing, I rest them on her waist and kiss her again. “I love you, Buffy.”

We kiss for a few seconds, then she pulls back and looks into my eyes again, “Also, I’d like a little less effort next year ‘cause we can’t have you screwing things up and crying in a heap on the kitchen floor again,” she teases, and laughs as she scampers away before I can grab her.

You bitch. “You bitch!” I yell, and chase after her with another dumb ass grin on my face.


	13. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow! First AU. I'm a Fuffy shipper as they are, the crazy stuff between them and all (which is why I tend to write Post-Chosen more often than not) and hardly ever read AU myself. However, as I was writing this, I discovered what the allure of AU is: Possibilities! Ohhh, the endlessness. Therefore, I ended up with wayyy more ideas than could fit in one chapter, and ended it where I did because #1 I'd have gone on all day and #2: I wanted to guage the reaction to this chapter and see if you guys would be interested in me continuing- either as its own individual story, or fitting in new chapters within this series as I continue. :)
> 
> Please tell me if you would like to see more of this one! I'm definitely feeling it :P
> 
> Without further adeiu, I give you Chapter 13, Prompt #15: Pressure.

This is what I get for deciding coffee was more important than catching my train into Athens.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m ridiculously happy I picked up one last frappe at the corner coffee shop (Starbucks couldn’t hold a candle to true Greek coffee), but I could have done without accidentally spilling enough of it to stain the blouse I just bought yesterday.

Of course, I could also have done without sticking out like a sore thumb as I am ushered into the train. As the last person to arrive, the rest of the passengers are seated and ready to go. Hey, look at the blonde American who decided to grace us with her presence… Ah, and wear her frappe instead of drink it! Americans are odd birds, yes?

The fact that I imagined someone saying that pretty much proves their nonexistent point.

I’m even more horrified as I scan over the second class area, only to discover there’s no available seats left. I hesitate, trying not to think about how dumb I must look, before approaching an older woman who had placed her things in the empty aisle seat next to her.

“Oh, uh… Me synchro... eit,” I mentally kick myself at the butcher knife I just took to that phrase. She looks at me blankly.

Nervously hugging my baggage, I gesture to the seat her purse and jacket sit on. “May I sit here?”

The woman scoffs- or, makes a noise that sounds like a scoff- then dismisses me with something in Greek that I, of course, don’t understand.

“I don’t speak-“

Her eyes dart in my direction, cutting me off before I can finish. “Eisai koufos? Fyge!” She says angrily.

I barely have time to react to her response before someone lays their hand gently on my lower back. I turn to see a young brunette standing next to me, smiling at the Greek woman.

“Syngnomi pou sas enochlo,” the girl says in a thick, husky tone. “O filos moue do einai nea stin Ellada.”

I find myself kind of entranced by this mystery girl; her beauty is hard to miss.

The woman in her seat mutters something in Greek and turns away, waving us off. The brunette gently urges me forward, her hand still warm on my skin.

“Empty seat next to mine; figured I’d stop you two from getting physical,” she winks at me.

I laugh. “Thank you.” We walk past a few seats before she arrives at two empty ones, picking up the items that took up the space and placing them in an overhead compartment.

The brunette turns to me. “Aisle or window?”

“Oh, uh… Doesn’t matter to me.”

She nods, then points at my suitcase. “Here, lemme put that up for you.”

“No, that’s okay-“ But she hoists it up anyway, and color me impressed; I could barely get it up off the bed after I was done packing, the thing was so heavy.

I sit in the aisle seat, unable to help myself from watching closely as she fits it into the compartment, my eyes taking note of the dark vest tank top and black jeans she’s wearing that shows off her sleek form and the olive complexion of her skin. Her hair, a dark chocolate brown, stops right at her shoulders in playful, messy waves that frame her face. With big and expressive caramel eyes, the permanent pout of her lips… I’ve had lusty thoughts about girls before, but damn if this isn’t on an entirely different level.

The compartment latch clicks shut, and she’s smirking at me.

“See something you like?”

Because I needed to feel like being swallowed up into the earth more than once today, yeah. I blush at her comment, turning away. “Sorry.”

The brunette chuckles, and the sound gives me what feels like butterflies. I’m kinda confused by that.

“Nah, just bustin’ your chops, Blondie,” she replies, and moves to settle into the window seat on my other side. Turning to me, she holds out her hand. “Faith.”

Thankful that’s over, I smile. “Buffy.” Shaking her hand, our eyes meet, and there’s something tangible there. Some sort of feeling like I’ve known this woman before, or that we were meant to meet… or something.

Faith raises a dark brow. “Buffy? Kinda name is that?” She teases.

I almost roll my eyes, but turn to her and, poker face on, I say pointedly, “Yeah…” Big sigh. “Unfortunately it was originally meant for my twin sister, but it turns out I ate her or something in the womb and, in high school, had to get her surgically removed. Bitch was still in there.”

Silence. I turn back to Faith, and she’s got her brow furrowed and a slight look of amusement across her face.

“That… was a joke, right?”

Poker face gone. I laugh, my hand moving to my mouth to cover the sound.

“The look on your face!” I giggle. “Oh, that was priceless.”

Faith rolls her eyes, smiling too. “I knew it. You’re nuts.”

Composing myself, I shrug. “That’s definitely true.” I give her a once over, watching as she pulls out a binder from her bookbag. “What about you?”

“Me?” She rolls her shoulders, pulling out a pencil. “Not big on the baby eating myself,” she winks at me. I roll my eyes.

I watch as she pulls out her phone and plugs earbuds into the top. I hear familiar lyrics from the tiny headphones.

_Tell me where our time went_

_And if it was time well spent_

_Just don’t let me fall asleep_

_Feeling empty again.._

Nodding in approval, I point to her phone before she sticks it in the pocket of her vest and opens her binder. “Good taste in music, too.” Before she can reply, I gasp at the paper in her hand. “Oh wow.”

The words escape before I know they’re there as I scan the drawing she begins to work on. It’s a gorgeous sketch of a nude woman lying on her stomach, eyes staring back at me, with a large snake resting over her body.

I scrunch my nose. “Why the snake?”

“Represents sensuality, B. Plus: cool as hell.” Faith flashes a grin at me.

My eyes search her face, but she’s returned her gaze to the drawing. “B?”

Faith looks up. “Oh… Sorry. Got this nickname habit; guess I didn’t give it enough time to get creative,” she leans back, and the way her eyes scan my body gives me this warm tingle that seems to get stronger as the minutes in her presence pass. What is with me today?

“What?” I say nervously, flushing under her stare.

The brunette just shakes her head. “Nah, I got nothin’. I didn’t know you, then first glance would have me thinkin’ you were some kinda snobby Malibu Barbie.”

“I’m not snobby!” The fake glare I gave her pretty much just got ruined by the whine in my voice. Faith chuckles, and I just roll my eyes. “I may be blonde, but trust me when I say I’m a lot more than those walking robots.”

“Oh, I got that,” the tone of her voice changes, and I glance at her. Her eyes have darkened, and the way she’s looking at me? Yep. Bye bye, heterosexuality.

The tension is thick. Is it hot in here or is it just Faith?

Whatever moment we’re having is cut short by an attendant who says something to us in Greek. My brow furrows, but Faith looks over at me.

“You want a drink or somethin’?” Her husk is back to its normal pitch, but it still gives me a shudder.

Shaking my head, I raise my frappe cup to the attendant, then frown as I notice its newfound meltyness. “Darn,” I comment.

I hear another chuckle at my side, and Faith speaks to the attendant. As mesmerizing as her voice is when she speaks English, it’s about ten thousand times hotter in another language. The attendant writes in a notepad and replies to Faith, then shuffles down the aisle.

“You’re going to make my life difficult this whole ride, aren’t you?” I narrow my eyes at the brunette, though the corners of my lips betray me as they curve up at her.

She smiles back. Damn, those dimples are fantastic. “Oh, absolutely,” she nudges me with her elbow. “You’re gonna be so much fun to play with.”

The way she says it, it seems she’s got a lot of ideas for “play”. I find myself okay with that, then make a mental note to call my lesbian best friend and ask her just what exactly is in the water here in Greece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes I made in the Greek translations or anything related (are Greek people normally nice? Was the old woman on the train not realistic? Do they have overhead compartments)
> 
> Anyway, please do tell me what you think about me continuing with this plotline. And whoever spotted how I snuck in that prompt gets a cookie. :D


	14. Revelations

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes huh.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“Bullshit, B.”

You turn to look at her. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Faith snorts into her bottle of beer and meets your gaze, eyes full of amusement. “Because you’ve always considered ‘experimenting’ as being brave enough to eat one of Dawn’s peanut butter and salami combos.”

“Hey!” Your elbow connects with her ribs. “I see you eating those all the time, you cow.”

You narrow your eyes when she puts her hand on her chest, faking offense. 

“B, how could you?” Faith is smirking; especially as you cross your arms, a pout forming on your face. She mirrors your previous action, nudging you in the side with her elbow only a lot gentler than you had. “Come on, B. I’m just messin’ with you,” she says. “I’m sure you had a great giggly makeout session with Satsu before you both ran your separate ways in embarrassment.”

You know what she’s trying to do, so you just continue to face the TV, your face void of any expression as you wait until her beer bottle is pressed against her lips again.

“Actually, we had sex.”

Faith nearly spits out her beer and coughs a few times before turning to you again. “Now I know you’re fucking lying,” but her face is serious, and you wonder what’s going through her head.

You shake yours. “I’m not. It was a… one-time thing, you know. Post-slay, loneliness, vice versa. It was just a thing.”

There’s nothing but silence and the low voices coming from the television as response. You look out of the corner of your eyes to see Faith staring at the TV, an unreadable expression on her face.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence. “You really find it hard to believe I had a thing with another Slayer?”

“No, I don’t,” she replies curtly.

Turning more toward her, you furrow your brow. “Then what’s up with you?”

More silence.

“Faith?”

“Nothing, I’m just kinda pissed you slept with another chick- let alone another Slayer- who wasn’t me.”

You watch her close her eyes, put her hand over her face in embarrassment. “Shit,” she says, and before you can reply, she’s up and out the door.

It doesn’t take you long to pick up your jaw and wrap your head around her revelation. In just a minute or two, you realize it makes complete sense. Faith had tried so hard to get your attention for so many years, and now you realize it had been one of the biggest factors in her betrayal. You feel like an idiot, having been so blind to her affection for you. And you just told her you slept with another woman whom you barely knew because you were worked up.

You find her outside on the porch, a cigarette in her hand. She speaks before you get the chance.

“I’d rather we not talk about what just came out of my idiotic mouth, if you don’t mind.”

But you don’t answer; instead, you watch Faith’s silouhette as she runs a hand through her hair, moving the cigarette between her lips as she slowly inhales. After a minute, she turns her gaze to you.

“No sarcastic retort to go with my little revelation, B?” Her voice is derisive.

You move closer to her. “That’s why… God, I was so stupid,” you say, suddenly wondering why you’re out of breath.

Faith doesn’t reply as you stand just inches from her. “I’m sorry, Faith. I never realized.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Buffy,” she says, and her voice shakes as she tries to back up a few steps. You only follow her.

“I do,” and you take her hand, looking up into wide, dark eyes. “It took me all of the two minutes after you left until I came to find you to realize that that was a big part of the problems between us.”

She begins to pull away, and you hope like hell you can stay past her walls long enough.

“It took me less than that to realize it wasn’t Satsu I wanted,” Your hand cups her face, turning her gaze back to you. Her eyes are wide; more vulnerable than ever, but you know it’s because this time, you’re looking. 

“It was you. It’s always been you. God, the reason I pushed you away so hard…” You shake your head, and look back up at her. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Buffy, don’t do this,” she begs you. “Don’t fuck with me like this.”

A light smile curls at your lips. “I’m not. I promise, I’m not.”

The kiss you share doesn’t feel like the first. It feels like your mouths were puzzle pieces that finally fit together after having tried so many other wrong edges. You feel more than hear her moan as the tip of your tongue finds hers, and you smile, pulling back to end the kiss quicker than either of you wanted.

“Just one thing, though, Faith,” you say, tracing her lips with your thumb.

Faith’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Yeah?”

You point to the burning ember between the fingers of her other hand. “I’m not gonna kiss you again until you throw that out and promise to quit,” you smirk, knowing the difficulty of your proposition.

But she smiles at you and takes a step back, hitting the cigarette once more with a daring look in her eyes as they meet yours. Then she tosses the cigarette butt off the balcony- along with her pack of cigarettes.

You laugh; partially in surprise, mostly in relief. That she thought you were good enough to give up something like that for. 

Faith pulls you to her again. “Just so you know, I’m gonna be a real bitch for the next coupla days,” she cups your face, the smile still across her lips.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” you smirk. She puts her hand on her chest again and drops her jaw. You laugh and pull her closer. “But that’s one of the reasons I love you, yunno.”

You’re pretty sure the kiss she gives you is a good enough response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy little chapter, no?
> 
> This one was quite difficult. What with trying to think what to do for this, cleaning house, writing an essay and studying for an algebra midterm… yeeahhh, lotsa stress this week XD
> 
> Oh, and last chapter’s AU is currently being fleshed out into a full-length fic. I can’t promise it will be finished or finished soon, but I can tell you that I will post it in its entirety if and when it does get finished. :3 it’s been super intimidating, and all I’ve gotten to do is write an outline so far! :P Stick around, y’all. Love the love you’ve been giving for this. xxx


	15. Fuck the Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: may be a little longer in between chapters. I'm scrambling to get all my grades in order for the rest of the semester, not to mention a shit ton of other things to do. I want to be able to take my time with each chapter & make it the best it can be.
> 
> Angst & a surprise guest appearance. You get all the cookies if you name the crossover. :3
> 
> Prompt #17: Forbidden

When Buffy laid out her plans with the Scythe, you were the first to jump on board. An army of Slayers, the weight of the world no longer on you and B’s shoulders. Well, okay- technically, just B’s. You were never much for carrying something that heavy for too long. That’s why you were the “dark” Slayer. That and a whole lot of unhappy childhood bullshit, of course.

As the battle of the Hellmouth is upon you, you see the girls around you gasp with their new power, and you feel an undeserved moment of pride. It doesn’t last long, because the thousands of Turok-Hans below converge upon your small group and you’re fighting. You’re doing what you’re meant to do.

It’s on the school bus- you’re driving, because Robin couldn’t anymore, you sure as hell didn’t trust B to, and you needed something to fucking do honestly- that the burden begins. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s on the bus after you’ve taken the wheel and drove from the crater in the ground when you don’t even smile as Buffy, the newly called Slayers, Willow, and the few others without powers begin to cheer at their victory that the burden doesn’t begin.

It just returns.

Your whole life, you were never good for anything. That’s what Ma told you- you refused to believe her at first, telling yourself she was just pissed because her boyfriend walked out on her the night before. She’d discovered him forcing himself on you, and he smiled viciously as he zipped up his pants and headed for the door: “Your Faithie is a better lay than you, Sheri.” 

Though you know that hadn’t been your fault, that you were barely twelve fucking years old, your mother called you a whore and kicked your ass good after you were alone again. She told you that’s all you’d ever be good for, opening your legs or getting on your knees. You didn’t throw it back in her face and point out how often you’d found her in one of those same positions because she’d just replace her hands with a belt or something worse.

It ended up that that was all you were good for. 

That is, until you became the Slayer. But then, that didn’t even last, because you managed to fuck that up too.

You’d spent nearly three years punishing yourself for the shit you’d done. Ain’t like you hadn’t deserved it; the jury for your trial certainly agreed with that when they found you guilty, as well as the judge when he sentenced you half a lifetime.

When Wesley broke you out, when you returned to Sunnydale with Willow and did whatever you felt was the right thing to do- your path to redemption hadn’t gone far locked away in prison, after all- you’d felt important again. Though you’d managed to fuck up a few times; Angel’s gratitude toward you, Wesley’s acceptance and forgiveness, Buffy’s reassurance that the girls who died in that armory hadn’t been your fault all spurred you on. You had been thanking your lucky stars that they showed some faith in you after all.  
But you’re driving now, and you remember your Ma’s words again like a sinister whisper that echoes in your ear. 

“Worthless.”

And the bus may be full of people, but you feel the Slayer energy around you and you fall deeper into the pit of loneliness that you should probably begin to call home.

-

You’re surprised Robin jumps into bed with you so quickly again after everything, because you expected he’d wanted to bring up the stupid relationship shit again. 

Of course, it certainly didn’t stop him as you laid in the hotel bed together afterwards; sheets soaked with sweat, hearts pounding as you both catch your breath and inhale the scent of sex still lingering in the air.

Robin tells you this will be the last time unless you want something more. He tells you he’s fine with casual sex, but he knows how difficult it is when feelings become involved. With that, he looks you in the eye and tells you feelings are most definitely involved this time around, at least on his part, and he doesn’t want to go through the motions if it’s just gonna turn to shit in the end. Okay, so he doesn’t say that exactly, but you always had a more colorful strategy of articulation.

Sighing at your wordlessness, he sits up to look for his clothes when you shudder out a breath. You didn’t really mean for that breath to be accompanied by noise of any kind.

“I’m a murderer, Robin.”

He looks back at you, and you expect him to shoot you an expression of disgust, or repulsion. Only he doesn’t, and he leans down, and he brushes the hair out of your face before kissing you. Soft.

“Were. You were a murderer.” Robin’s eyes are gentle. Too gentle. He continues: “You’re not that person anymore.”

You just stare up at him, your face void of communication. “You didn’t know her,” you counter.

Robin just kisses you again.

“I don’t have to.”

-

He gets used to your nightmares, after a while. You’d all gone to Cleveland and began to set up a plan to find more Slayers, to train them. They still don’t trust you, not really, though they pretend to. But the hard edges of you begin to soften as time with Robin lengthens, so you don’t get easily tousled anymore. 

Controlling your emotions is easier than forgetting the past.

The first time, Robin shakes you awake only to find himself pressed against the wall; his feet off the floor, your hand around his throat and your eyes sanguine with angst and ferocity. You let him go when you realize who it is, and as he coughs air back into his lungs you collapse onto the floor and sob.

Strong arms envelop you quickly, and you don’t notice how his voice is quiet because of the damage you’d inflicted. You just try to focus on his words, soothing but only making you sob harder.

You wish you could tell him that no, everything’s not gonna be okay.

After a while, you begin to let yourself believe it might be. The nightmares settle down after you finally relent and tell Robin about them. How sometimes it’s your mom, and your skin tingles at the memory of the sting as her belt connected with your skin. Allan Finch is a regular- he usually doesn’t do much but stare up at you, the shock on his face permanent as his heart no longer beats. You tell him how the most violent ones are the boyfriends Ma didn’t notice sneaking into your room and stuffing a gag into your mouth before pulling your pajama bottoms off and unfastening their belts.

Sometimes they turn into Allan or Lester Worth as their weight crushes you and their libidos damage not only your body, but your very essence.

-

Robin has become important to you; you love him in some kind of way, but it isn’t the same as how he loves you, and you don’t know how to explain it won’t ever happen. You’re just not capable. Not after the years of proof that people are just not worth it, and then how the one time you allowed yourself to love someone, you screwed it up. And you have to face it every day- face her every day.

No one really understood your relationship with Angel, Robin included. Of course, most of them didn’t really care, nor look long enough to start to. Buffy, however, still disapproved. You never explained, and you didn’t plan on it; she could make her own assumptions, and you knew no matter what you said she would just regard your words as bullshit or twist them to her desire, to try and prove you were up to something. 

One night- probably eight or so months after Sunnydale collapsed- you all were winding down, healing, relaxing after the biggest fight since the destruction of the Hellmouth. You’d had a powerful group of demons and vampires who had joined forces, their objective to destroy as many Slayers as they could.

Angel had traveled from L.A. to help, and amused you to see Buffy’s rage when he hugged you or any other time you interacted. It made your heart burn just as much.

But that night, most of you had passed out after the battle, and you were wandering through the halls of the building- Robin asleep in your bed, damn he passed out quick after you had your fun with him- you stopped outside the dining hall, hearing voices inside. 

“I just don’t understand what it is you won’t tell me,” Buffy said indignantly. 

You could practically feel Angel’s frustration in the urgency of his reply: “Buffy, there is nothing to tell. Faith and I have a connection that you nor anyone else would be able to understand.”

Buffy scoffs and you roll your eyes. “Yes, the whole murdering people thing-“

“That’s enough, Buffy!” Both you and Buffy jump at Angel’s voice. “Yes, we have both hurt people. But you know what? How long has it been since Faith has hurt anybody, or killed? Since she’s lied or manipulated to get something out of someone? She spent nearly three years in prison- when she easily could have escaped at any time- and escaped because she wanted to help me how I helped her. She is here now because she realized how pointless it is to try and make up for her past sitting behind bars. Faith has a damn good heart, no matter her past mistakes, and the fact that she is here now and by your side even with the way you treat her should prove that. I was the only one to not give up on her when she needed someone, therefore- whether you like it or not- she is and always will be one of my closest friends.”

Buffy never commented on you and Angel’s relationship again until three months later.

Your feet brought you to the roof of the building- it wasn’t the first time, but you’d never gotten this close to the edge before. You’d looked far down to the ground, six stories below, but never allowed yourself to hope it might just be quick and painless to jump headfirst into the concrete.

Now you do, tears streaming down your face silently, as the voices ricochet through your head.

Ma, telling you what you ended up proving to her with every step. The terrified voice of Lester Worth when he knew he was going to die, and you were going to do it. Those words spoken by the First, in the form of your beyond fucked up idea of a father figure, Richard Wilkins III, and the truth you felt in your blood as he claimed you’d never be loved no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself or anyone else otherwise. 

Giles’ voice when he sat you all down and told you Angel had been killed.

The tingle of a Slayer vibrates down your spine, and you don’t hear much of Buffy’s words. 

“Are you even fucking listening to me? God, you’re just worthless!”

Neither of you are surprised when you attack her, a cry escaping your throat that was equal parts feral and devastated. This is the first time you’d ever fought her full strength; in reality, you never truly wanted to hurt her before. You loved her. And you always held back.

Not this time.

Your rage is too blinding, and before you know it, you’re both a bloody mess. Buffy can barely stand; you know you’ve broken a lot of bones in each other, so you’re no better off.

The two of you have parted to size each other up again, to spot weak points on the enemy and use it to your advantage. But the second you get far enough away to do so, she takes one look at you and, her own anguish and exhaustion taking its toll, Buffy lets her knees give out from under her and falls onto the ground.

Her quiet sobs and the sight of her on the ground dissolves all of your former rage. Now, tears slide down your face again, and you kneel next to her until you’re weeping together in a mess of blood and limbs.

What happens next is too much for you to handle, but it makes sense. Buffy kisses you, and before you know it you wind up in her shower. The marble floor is colored sanguine as your wounds are washed under the hot spray, but you don’t notice it much when you slide your fingers into her molten sex and she moans against your tongue. 

But she doesn’t let you pleasure her, no; not until she’s thrusted three of her own between your legs and fucked you until you came at least three times, to the point where you could barely stay on your feet. It isn’t until you stumble out of the shower together, wet and tangled amongst each other, and you push Buffy onto her bed that she lets you touch her again.

Neither of you speak when you wake up later, and it kills you but you know it’s for the best.

You don’t believe the pain could get much worse, but you slip out of Buffy’s room and close the door, only to look up and feel the dread seeping into your skin when you lock eyes with Robin.

He knows immediately, and looks at you with an unreadable expression clouding his face for a long moment before he turns and walks away.

Later, you hesitantly return to the room you share with him only to find his belongings gone.

-

With Angel’s death, Robin’s departure three weeks ago, and the way Buffy refuses to even regard your presence, you disappear in the middle of the night after deciding you’d save the gun stolen from the armory for later. Most of you didn’t give a flying fuck about anyone at the school, but you couldn’t bring yourself to make any one of them walk into your room only to find your brains on the wall.

Over the course of the next three months, you find yourself up and down most of the East Coast. Florida was kinda pretty, but a shit ton of assholes and humidity later you booked it on up to Tennessee. North Carolina. Rhode Island. You’d spent about three minutes off the bus in Boston before booking it back up the steps, buying a ticket for New York with the money you made searching for Slayers.

Willow had tracked you down about six days after you left. You were on Mackinac Island, breathing in the peace of the Amish country around you while your hands itched to find the .45 tucked away in your bag. You told her you wouldn’t come back, then before long found yourself on the phone with Giles and making a deal regarding your departure.

You could go where you wanted, but Giles would call to relay a location of another Slayer for you to send to them. While you agreed, you told him you would do it your way. You find them if and when you want to find them.

So you’re in New York, partly because you didn’t know where else to go and because you reckon Giles will be pissed that you hadn’t found the Slayer he called about weeks ago. You tossed your phone into the Rhode Island water after he’d called you about a thousand times.

Most of the time, you aimlessly wander through the streets and save who you can. Slay what needs to be slayed, usher off the newest recruit toward the way of Ohio. You’re starting to become numb, and you’re not sure if you’re okay with it or not.

You find yourself sliding into a stool at some nameless bar, wincing at the latest injuries from earlier and nodding up at the approaching bartender. He’s handsome: strong muscles, chiseled face, warm smile, and you shudder because he reminds you of Robin.

“What’ll it be tonight?” He asks you.

Wishing you could find it in yourself to return the smile, you look around casually and answer: “Jack. Leave the bottle.”

There’s a hesitance you feel rather than see, and you just look down at the bottle as he hands it to you, handing him what you owe and unscrewing the cap. The burn of the whiskey down your throat is welcomed. The other fires inside you have died and ache with their absence, so outside pain is usually preferred.

“Nice choice,” you hear a smooth voice beside you, but you don’t look at its owner, you only nod. But she chuckles almost sardonically. “Alright. Well, hey. Mind sharing? Don’t have much money to provide for my own alcoholism tonight.”

This makes you look over at her. Only now do you feel the buzz of the Slayer connection, and you take in the stranger it reverberates from. With onyx hair and pale skin, she’s an absolute twig in a leather jacket. You can’t help but smirk in approval at the sight of her, thinking to yourself that the woman has a similar taste in clothes as you do which is certainly a rare occurrence. But when you meet her eyes, it startles you.

You know you’re two separate people; for instance, you’ve got chocolate eyes and hers are green. She’s got a couple inches on you, though your body is thicker. You couldn’t be more different, in some ways.

But looking into her eyes is like looking into a mirror. 

When you get yourself presentable for the public, you always try and avoid looking into your own eyes. Your heart aches violent in your chest when you accidentally catch your own gaze, because you can see everything in them. All the shit you did, all the memories of the abuse you endured and the men you killed. Robin’s face as he watched you leave Buffy’s room, or the unaffected way Buffy spoke to you later.

Yeah, this chick’s probably gone through different situations. But you know, by the way the woman’s expression changes from amused to mirror the surprise and intrigue etched into your face, that she sees it too. That your experiences probably only differ by semantics.

You finally shake out of your stupor, and hold her gaze as you hand over the bottle of Jack Daniels. “I’m Faith,” you offer, and she takes a swig of the Jack with a smirk on her face.

It takes a moment, but she finally replies, after looking you up and down. “Jessica.”

There’s something tangible there, and you want to explore this girl. But you’ve got to send her to Cleveland- at least, do your damnedest, ‘cause if she’s like you she ain’t gonna go anywhere she doesn’t want to- and hell if you’re going to let down your walls just ‘cause she’s hot and you’ve got shit in common.

You remember, about a month ago, offhandedly mentioning the sex appeal of another Slayer in Virginia to Giles. He’d told you he wouldn’t allow that kind of behavior- teacher and student relations, teacher and teacher, or vice versa. Said no one wanted a similar experience to yours and Robin’s relationship.

The leather-clad mirror image of you at your side pushes the whiskey bottle back at you and raises an eyebrow. You just shake your head.

Eh, fuck the rules. Giles is gonna kill you. Mirror image? Well, shit. You always knew you were hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone recognize our girl? :3


	16. Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am running. Out. Of. Ideas. :/ Really, it is extremely hard to come up with original canon/slightly canon plotlines for Fuffy, because the BTVS fandom is so old & the majority of the good plotlines have already been written... and I'm bad at originality type things. Sad face.
> 
> On another note, I created a Twitter account @neytirijade if anyone wants to follow me/talk to me over there. Definitely looking to connect with other Fuffy shippers, and Twitter is for sure a better medium than here.
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> AU of This Year's Girl, prompt #18: Honesty

Out of all the possible ways that night could have panned out, this had been the least expected by any one of them.

Buffy hung the phone back on its receiver, unsure how she was going to break the news.

“Buffy?” Giles is immediately at her side, one hand placed firmly on his Slayer’s shoulder in an unconscious act of comfort. “What is it?”

His voice seems to break her from a trance. Buffy looks up at Giles, his words having finally registered, and she inhales sharply. 

She can’t bring herself to look at anything other than the floor when she says it.

“It’s Faith… She’s awake.”

-

Senses on high alert, Buffy pulls her jacket tighter around her waist. It’s just too quiet. Sure, she’d run into several vamps during her unnecessarily thorough search through Sunnydale- the entirety of Sunnydale. The blonde Slayer was now halfway to the beachfront city limit sign for the second time.

Buffy sighs, a storm of emotions coursing through her veins as she recalls the conversation with her friends and Giles earlier that night.

_“She could be terrified. Maybe she doesn’t even remember… Or maybe she does, and she’s sorry, and she’s alone, hiding somewhere?” Though the thoughts are verbalized, the words taste wrong on her tongue. But Buffy refuses to let the others- to let herself- feel the uncertainty there._

_She silently thanks Giles for entertaining the idea: “Perhaps there’s some form of rehabilitation we haven’t thought about.”_

_“And if not? Ass-kicking makes a solid Plan B.”_

Even now, Buffy flinches at the words Willow had said. She understood all too well why the others remained unconvinced; Faith had committed a lot of unforgivable acts against them. She had played the double agent, feeding information to the Mayor and ultimately joining forces with him to hurt Buffy and aid in the Mayor’s reign of terror. Faith had attacked Xander, she held Willow captive at knifepoint. She nearly killed Angel. Angel; whom at the time, Buffy considered the love of her life.

So why was Buffy looking for Faith, adamant on trying to help her instead of make Faith pay for the things she had done?

It wasn’t a simple answer. Buffy didn’t even truly know herself. What she did know was that Faith had not been the only one at fault in her descent into darkness. She’d had the past eight months to think about what it was that had gone so wrong between the two Slayers. Buffy never voiced her thoughts, not even to Giles; but she knew there was more that could have been done.

Faith was alone. From what Buffy had gathered by the offhanded comments she occasionally made, the brunette had had her fair share of hurt in her life, both mental and physical. Faith’s trust issues as she first arrived in Sunnydale more than proved that.

No, Buffy didn’t take to Faith immediately. In truth, the two girls had only truly connected a handful of times, when the blonde had finally given in to the allure of Faith’s carefree lifestyle. The first time, wires were crossed (more like horrifically tangled) and the Slayers had been pitted against each other, over the lies and manipulation of Gwendolyn Post. The second and last time Buffy had been swept up in Faith’s whirlwind, a man was killed.

But now, looking back; Buffy was disgusted with the way they had treated Faith. Firstly, she didn’t know why any of them- her mother and Giles especially- had allowed her to live in the squalor of the Sunnydale Motel. She was a teenager, no family or friends before she came here. Truthfully, even after. 

And how the hell did a seventeen year old girl with no income and nobody looking out for her pay for a $5 a night motel for nearly six months? Buffy suspected she didn’t want to know.

As she slowly made her way back downtown, Buffy- lost in the thoughts and emotions of guilt- nearly missed the echoing shout that sent chills down her spine as the sound rang through the empty streets. It’s then, finally pulled back into reality, that she feels the faint but familiar thrill spreading through her veins.

She whips her head around as she hears the shout once more. The blonde slayer stares in disbelief in the direction of the screams for a long moment, and then breaks out in a full sprint toward the noise.

_Faith. Oh, god, it’s her. It’s Faith._

It takes barely two minutes to reach the source of the yelling, and as Buffy gets closer, she discovers it’s more than just that. She can hear Faith much clearer now, and she’s certain the brunette is fighting something; human or demon, she doesn’t know. The Slayer prays for the latter. 

Buffy hesitates as she stumbles upon the fight. She’s almost frozen in place at the sight of the other Slayer.

Faith’s attacks are familiar to Buffy as she takes in the scene. She’s struggling to gain the upper hand against two demons in ceremonial robes; demons whose appearance Buffy recognizes, but she can’t remember what Giles called them. The younger girl is wild and reckless in her assault, of course, but Buffy realizes quickly that Faith must still be too weak to take on the demons alone. She’s fighting on pure instinct, as the blonde has seen before… but it’s more than that. Faith’s defense is something feral, primal; and it sends a cold, sinister chill through the other Slayer.

The pause Buffy takes to grasp this reality lasted mere seconds, and she steeled herself- unsheathing a blade from her jacket- before launching into the fray.

Buffy makes quick work of the first demon before turning to the second- and proceeding to watch in horror as Faith, having forced the remaining fiend to the ground with a vicious kick to its knees, wraps one arm around the demon and begins to drive her fingers through the flesh of its jugular. The dark Slayer shrieks, an unnerving pierce into the silence, as she finally wrenches the monster’s head from its body.

It’s eerily quiet while Buffy looks the other Slayer up and down. She doesn’t notice anything, at first, besides the clothes Faith is wearing- a dark t-shirt and cutoff shorts that Buffy thinks she’s seen before. The blonde regards her with sadness; it’s probably 40 degrees outside, and the brunette doesn’t even have shoes on- let alone warm clothes. She tries not to focus too much on Faith’s hands, drenched in blood from her display moments earlier.

That line of thought stops abruptly when Faith turns her gaze to Buffy’s direction. Thousands of words race through the older girl’s head, stepping back a step or two before sheathing her knife again and raising her empty hands in an unthreatening gesture. Faith only stares at her, and, with the same flash of brutality in her glare as when Buffy first arrived, she raises her right hand to her face and proceeds to lap up the blood on her fingers.

The blonde Slayer recoils. The expression on Buffy’s face contorts; a mix of terror, repulsion and concern clouding her features as the brunette continues to lick the gore off her skin. She doesn’t blink, and doesn’t break eye contact.

Before Buffy can react any further, Faith is gone in a blur of motion. She curses and bolts into action after the other girl, following the flash of her dark hair and pull of the Slayer connection.

Mere seconds pass before she loses sight of the brunette’s form and stops. Buffy turns back and forth, eyes scanning the shadows around her for the escaped Slayer. She only has the time to take a deep breath, and then she’s slammed into the pavement.

Faith’s hands wind around the throat of her target, pinning the blonde to the ground and trapping her under her own weight. 

A growl reverberates from the brunette’s chest, but Buffy is too busy gasping for breath to hear it the first time. So Faith leans closer, her harsh breath hitting the older girl’s face.

“You’re here to kill me.”

To Faith, it isn’t a question. But Buffy, straining to find her voice under the Slayer’s grip, shakes her head.

“N-no…” she rasps. “Not… kill you. Help.”

Then Faith’s weight- and her hands- are gone. Buffy barely registers the sound of her Slayer counterpart’s wild, unnatural laugh as she gulps air back into her lungs.

Finally, Buffy looks up at the girl who paces back and forth in front of her. Faith, eyes wide and breath quick, studies the gasping blonde at her feet.

“Help? What the fuck do you think you’re going to do to “help”, Buffy Summers?”

The girl in question braces her hands on the cement before slowly pushing to her feet. Seeing Faith flinch anyway, Buffy takes a few steps back and raises her hands in a repeat of their earlier encounter.

“I don’t know, Faith,” the older girl frowns when she’s answered with more cackling. “I didn’t get that far ahead, alright? I was too busy looking for you, making sure you were safe and okay. I didn’t have the chance to figure out the rest.”

The dark Slayer raises her eyebrow at Buffy’s reasoning. A few seconds tick by as the Slayers inspect each other; Faith pacing from one side of the street to the other in front of her predecessor, and Buffy holding herself completely still while cautiously aware of the figure before her.

Finally, Faith just shrugs. “Good luck with that,” she says, and slips behind the back door of the building they had been standing behind.

The alleyway turns eerie without the brunette’s presence, and Buffy can’t make heads or tails of her current situation. She doesn’t know where Faith’s head is at, though it was fair to assume the worst when considering the other girl’s actions in the past ten minutes. The blonde has absolutely no clue what was going to happen if she pursued Faith once again, nor any idea of her own plan of action; in the unlikely event that Faith does accept her help. She’s reached an impasse, fearing the worst while praying to whatever god may be around that this time, she can save Faith: from the world, that’s proven cruel and unforgiving toward the dark Slayer. But more importantly, from herself.

Buffy takes a breath, and allows the tether of the Slayer connection lead her to Faith once again.


	17. Black Swan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows the comics. Word of warning to anyone who's read them that a mistake or two regarding canon may be present. 
> 
> Those who have not read them, you should know that earlier in the current season of Angel & Faith, Faith and a team of Slayers were dispatched to South America to rescue a group of people from a vampire tribe; one of those people being Riley Finn, Faith took the mission in hopes of making up for the misdeeds concerning Riley.
> 
> Quick ?: how do you guys feel about the little glimpses of smut I've thrown in? I've been considering writing longer/more gratuitous sexytimes, but wonder if that would interrupt the flow of the chapters so far. Give me your input :)
> 
> Hope you guys aren't getting bored. I'm having a helluva time coming up with ideas. :3 Remember to check me out on Twitter @neytirijade 
> 
> Prompt #19: Grace

In Stockton, we’re given a “rewards” system that qualifies as a mark of good behavior on our records. Of course, they’ll only write it down once; when they do, you can either say “fuck it” and continue with the system, or just do whatever you want once you got the big shiny stamp in your file. ‘Course, every time you fuck up, those write-ups cancel out the rewards.

Only took about eight months for me to realize that one.

At any rate, I fucking despised the system. I didn’t mind the cleaning; everywhere but the bathrooms, of course. Cafeterias got pretty gross sometimes, too. You lock up a mess of human females, take away most of their basic rights and keep ‘em in the same vicinity, they’re gonna resemble apes soon enough.

But I digress. My favorite was the job they got me set up with. Some of the others gotta hustle in the cafeteria, or the yard- me? I got to work the library.

Yeah, yeah. Faith Lehane can read. Shocker, huh?

Another nice surprise was the book selection. There were a few hundred along the stacks- neatly lined up and placed in the right order, after I arrived- and many of ‘em were worn down to the point of no return. There was a lot of nonfiction, which caught my attention every once in a while; but I was always into the fiction. Devoured everything from Memoirs of a Geisha to The Girl Next Door (I don’t recommend the latter), and got to spend hours on my own without having to watch my back among the troves of paperbacks.

Gettin’ off topic, ain’t I? Anyway, one of the “extracurriculars” that counted high up in the system was group therapy. Yeah, you heard right. The Dark Slayer got herself some shrinking while in the pen.

No, I know. I’m just as surprised as you.

Moving on.

Took me a good few months to get comfortable in the group; or, in the least, stop scoffing or rolling my eyes at everything that was said. Mostly ‘cause I kept getting kicked out.

Even though I stayed cynical as fuck about it for a while, I had the annoying habit of actually listening, no matter how bad I wanted to be somewhere else. When I told Angel that, he said it’s my curiosity. I looked at him sardonically and told him about the creepy Native American dude who told me my spirit animal was some kinda cat.

Couple weeks into my sentence, someone told this story about a swan that fell into a black hole. I didn’t look to see if anyone shot me any annoyed looks when I snickered. Abby and Amy in Wonderland. Oh wait. Those were ducks in The Aristocats. 

Point is, the whole story was supposed to represent taking a leap of faith (hardy har) into the unknown, and coming out “better” on the other side. All full of wisdom and shit.

Sarcasm and all aside, it wasn’t all that great of a story, honestly. A swan looking for the “future”, talking about her “journey” to the dragonfly she most likely hallucinated? Not to mention, it’s a freaking swan; the story probably came from some acid trip. Eh. I could vomit a plotline better than that.

A few weeks after the incident with Soldier Boy, when we were lending a hand to B and her gang in San Francisco, I was thinking about what Riley said to me after we freed him. I’d not seen him since the body-swap, and I was feeling all sorts of guilty; so I’d tried to apologize to him. But the former Initiative soldier shook his head, and told me that the apology didn’t belong to him. It belonged to The Chosen One herself: she was the person I’d needed to say those words to, not him. 

Truth is, it’s been years that B and I have been fighting the good fight together again. Yeah, most of it’s been in our own corners of the world; point being, I’d been chicken shit to try and apologize. I felt like I didn’t even deserve the chance to say the words.

But I’d been thinking about it (obsessing over it, more like), and after weeks of doubt, I decided I had nothing left to lose. Buffy could take it or leave it; I just needed her to hear it from me.

And so I finally get the Golden Girl alone… and I practically trip over the words, I’m so goddamn nervous and impatient to just get them the fuck out. Swan dive.

It takes everything in me to hold her gaze for the long moments of silence I’m greeted with in response. The “moment” (whatever, it felt like one) is interrupted as we hear Dawn inside; squealing at the top of her lungs. What about, I don’t know. The ache in my heart was starting to get kinda loud when B’s eyes leave mine.

So I tear my gaze away from her, moving to sit at the front step while I shake a cigarette loose from the pack in my jacket. 

I almost jump three feet into the air when I feel a hand on my shoulder; I turn to see B crouching down next to me, her eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them and the ghost of a smile on her lips. She squeezes my shoulder gently, leans forward, and presses her lips to my cheekbone.

“Thank you,” she says, pulling away. “For everything. For being here, for helping. For being you.”

And she’s gone before I can wrap my head around the moment that just occurred, and I feel myself smiling lightly.

Later that week, I decided to get my second tattoo; spanning the length of my back, in bold, black tribal ink, was a swan with its wings spread.

\---

“Swan smiled and said, “Dragonfly, I learned to surrender my body to the power of Great Spirit and was taken to where the future lives. I saw many wonders high on Sacred Mountain and because of my faith and my acceptance I have been changed. I have learned to accept a state of grace.” Dragonfly was very happy for Swan.

Swan told Dragonfly many of the wonders beyond the illusion. Through her healing and her acceptance of the state of grace, she was given the right to enter the Dreamtime.

So it is that we learn to surrender to the grace of the rhythm of the universe, and slip from our physical bodies into the Dreamtime. Swan medicine teaches us to be at one with all planes of consciousness, and to trust in the Great Spirit’s protection.”


	18. Sex, Drugs & Bowties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:
> 
> Nearly 6k words for this one. Holy crap.
> 
> Warnings: Extremely explicit sex and use of marijuana.  
> Note that the sex in previous chapters is basically rated G compared to this. Merry Christmas. :D
> 
> Prompt #20: Laughter

The past year has been the best of my life. After the Hellmouth fell, several of the new Slayers went back to their respective families while our core group stayed in L.A. to regroup. After six weeks of rest, relaxation and the making of plans, we headed on over to Cleveland.

Don’t get me wrong- I was a little uncertain about taking up residence over another Hellmouth, having planned on taking more of a backseat to the Slayer title while Faith, Vi, Kennedy and Rona fought for shotgun. But it didn’t take me long to realize I would never truly escape my calling- and that I really never wanted to. Slaying had been my life for too long. It was in my blood, and something in those first few months out of Sunnydale made it clear: I was a Slayer- the Slayer, no matter how many of us there now were- and after years of putting so much emphasis on how that impacted my life, I finally realized how much I loved it.

We had won battles before- saved the world, averted the apocalypse. Time and time again, my friends and I had come out on top. But this time was different, and we all felt it.  
Giles had taken me aside one day soon after the battle, and he expressed his regret over having tried to kill Spike and the way it drove us apart. He told me he understood how wrong it had been; by the time he explained that it killed him to have the woman he considered a daughter so upset with him, I was a blubbering mess in his arms and gave him my forgiveness. I told him if we went to Cleveland, he’d better come with; I made sure he fully comprehended that it just wouldn’t be the same without him.

A noticeable weight had been lifted off all our shoulders, driving away from the Sunnydale that was no more; but poor Xander carried another weight, one that would probably be there for life. Anya’s death impacted us all in different ways, but when my longtime best friend began drinking heavily, he hid it from all of us. 

It was surprising that Faith was not only the first to see it, but the first to do something about it. She’d gotten rid of all of the alcohol in Xander’s apartment, and then at the Academy- much to the others’ chagrin. She sat us all down, gave us a stern Giles-esque talking-to, and the next day we had an intervention.

Suffice it to say, Xander is now nine months sober. He sees the Academy’s psychologist, Theresa, every week; and he and Faith? Thicker than thieves.

Kennedy proposed to Willow just weeks after we’d settled in Cleveland. Today- an exact year to the day she proposed- they were been joined as partners in one of the most beautiful ceremonies I’d ever witnessed. 

There hadn’t been many of us at the service. It was our group; Dawn and I, Giles, Xander, Faith and Andrew, along with several Slayers- some who’d traveled for the wedding- our small handful of staff at the Academy, and a few members of the Coven in England, including the Wiccan high priestess who’d performed the handfasting.

Now, it was down to just Faith and I, where we sat at one of the abandoned tables in the courtyard where the reception was held; each of us sipping the last of the champagne bottle from small glasses while we talked.

Did I mention Faith and I were now really close? I think that slipped my mind. 

Just days after leaving the crater formerly known as Sunnydale, Faith approached me as I sat in the kitchen of the Hyperion, finishing a glass of orange juice and stack of waffles. She made small talk with me as she poured herself a tall glass, then sipped at it while her other hand tapped nervously on the counter. I asked what was up, and she finished a particularly long gulp of OJ before looking down at it, muttering something about “not enough vodka”, and looked up at me.

“I know I don’t got a right to ask this,” she began, and her eyes returned to the glass in her hand. “I don’t even really have a right to be here right now or nothin’, you know?” Faith swished the liquid around inside her glass, and then her eyes met mine again. I nearly gasped. I still don’t know if that was the first time I’d ever seen that much emotion in her gaze, or if before then, I just never looked.

The brunette stood before me took a deep breath. “I want to start over with you,” she said. “I mean, all of you guys. But you especially.” She set down her glass, on the counter next to her, and then stepped toward me until I could almost feel her body heat.

“You probably haven’t forgiven me, and I would understand if you never do; hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the thought of it made you bust out laughing.” 

There was a light smirk on her face as she said it, but Faith looked away for a moment before turning to me again- her eyes continuing to shine with emotion. She covered my hand with her own as she started to speak:

“I want you to know I’m sorry,” her voice is barely above a whisper, and deeper than her normal husky tone. “I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much; how badly I want to take back the things I did. The people I hurt, the men I-“ her voice cracks, and she looks down at her hand, which I’ve covered with both of my own. This time, it is a whisper that escapes: “The men I killed…” 

Now, it’s my turn to look down at the hand I’m holding in mine as Faith takes a moment to clear her throat. Her words, no longer a whisper, are clearer now: “But the one thing I want more than anything?” Our eyes meet at the same time. “Another chance. To make up for what I did, to try and make some sort of amends for what I’ve done. To try and gain your trust back, no matter how hard it will probably be.”

Faith brings her other hand to mine, clasping our fingers together. She looks nervous as she does so, watching the action as if she doesn’t know why it’s happening, or how I’ll react. One more time, she raises her head to meet my gaze.

“I want to be your friend, Buffy. The friend I should have been when I first came to Sunnydale.”

Several long moments pass. I’m lost in her gaze- Faith’s chocolate colored irises display more than I think I’ve ever seen in another person’s eyes; there’s sorrow, guilt. Flickers of hurt and self-hatred that make my heart ache. And then I see the huge, blinding lights of hope, and a silent plea aimed right at me. 

I don’t even think before gently pulling her by the hand and slipping my arms around her waist, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Faith’s muscles turn granite, and I loosen my grip, but I don’t let go.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, my voice only audible enough for the two of us, though we were alone. My arms tighten around her a fraction. “It’s okay, Faith.”

I wait a few seconds until her arms hesitantly find their way onto my shoulders. She’s still tense, and I can literally almost feel the fight or flight response in her body, so I let my fingers trace soothing patterns over her spine.

Faith and I stand there, locked in our embrace, for what seems like an eternity. Slowly, her arms tighten over my shoulders, and her fingers slip into my hair. Her muscles loosen even more slowly, and still twitch slightly by the time I speak again.

“I want that too, Faith. I want to have the friendship we always should have had,” I say to her. I let a few moments pass before continuing:

“And, Faith?” I pull back far enough to meet her eyes. “I forgive you.”

Faith startles, a gasp escaping her lips as she instinctually jerks from my hold on her. I just pull her closer to me.

“It’s okay, Faith, I promise it’s gonna be okay,” I breathe into her hair. “I forgive you, and I want to do things right this time.”

As I finish, she starts to cry.

It was then, I know now, that I started to realize my attraction to her- without making with the major denial this time around. Over the months, my feelings for her only grew in size. Our friendship blossomed, and so did my ginormous crush.

At this point, I knew I had a major thing for her, but had almost subconsciously not allowed myself to fall for her. I honestly am convinced she doesn’t feel the same for me; though she flirts all the time, and our friendship began to slowly but surely become one of physical affection, I felt like I had given her enough openings for her to have made a move by now.

Definitely doesn’t help the fact that I’m having such a hard time not undressing her with my eyes today.

Kennedy had given Faith the honor of best (wo)man, and Faith- in all her femme slash butch glory- showed up dressed in a formal black vest top and dress pants, along with her trademark Doc Martens. She also wore the cutest, sexiest bow tie choker necklace around her neck, and it certainly didn’t help my dilemma very much.

We’d probably been sitting there talking for over an hour when we noticed the orange hue of the sunset, deciding it was about time to head home. Faith downed the rest of her champagne, rising from her seat before offering her hand.

“My lady,” she says, her dimples on dazzling display. I know it doesn’t mean to her what it means to me, but her smile is infectious. So I grin at her, slip my hand in hers, and let her help me to my feet.

Hooking an arm through hers, I nudge her with my elbow. “Such a gentleman, my Faith,” I tease.

“S’what I’m here for, B,” she replies, winking at me. “Only the best for my girl.”

We chatter about nothing in particular for a few minutes as we walk back toward the Academy. The reception had taken place just a few miles from our home, so it was a fairly decent walk back.

Halfway to our destination, I nudge Faith lightly with my elbow. “Do I wanna know what crazy little schemes you’re plotting in that head of yours?”

Faith gives me a full-on, toothy smile- complete with the dimples that make me weak at the knees. “Prolly not.” She says, and she’s quiet again.

“Oh my god, tell me,” I finally say. She chuckles, giving a little shrug. “I dunno, B,” she gives me a look out of the corner of her eye. “Not really sure if you’ll be cool with it.”

I slow, putting some space between us, and moving my hand down her arm to clasp with her own. My eyes narrow at her.

“What are you up to, Faith Ember Lehane?”

Faith shoots me another hesitant look before she lets out a sigh of surrender. I smirk, knowing I’ve won again- but my expression turns confused as she reaches into the breast pocket of her vest.

“Aaaand you’re feeling yourself up because…?” I say nervously, hoping to God I’m not blushing.

I get a raised eyebrow before Faith presents me with the item she had dug out of her pocket.

A cigarette?

Wait, no….

A joint?!

My feet root in the ground. “You have marijuana?!” Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have said that so loud…

“B, fuck!” Faith looks around. “You know this shit ain’t legal yet, right? Keep it to a dull roar, yeah?”

My eyes are apologetic before looking back down at the small paper in her hand. “Wow,” I say in a heavy exhale. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen pot before… Not in real life, anyway.”

Faith gives me an incredulous look. “You mean you’ve never smoked before?”

I just shrug at her, and watch as her eyes grow dark with mischief.

“Oh no, missy,” I tell her. “No way. Nuh-uh. No how.”

“Come on, B,” she whines. Yep, she’s a whiner sometimes- but only because she knows I usually give in. If it’s not the whine (how can someone still sound sexy as hell whining?) that makes me cave, it’s the pout. Oh, god, don’t give me the pout…

Shaking my head, I look at the joint. “Faith, I don’t know. I’ve never been good with this kinda stuff…” But I can feel my resolve crumbling, and I know Faith can too.

And here’s the pout.

“Pretty please, B? With cherries and puppies and pretty white roses on top?” 

I try, very hard, to tear my eyes from her bottom lip. When I manage to do just that, I put my hands over my face. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I,” my hands muffle my voice. Faith chuckles, and I look up as I hear her lighter catch.

She inhales a healthy chunk of smoke, and her eyes close as she breathes it in deep. After a few seconds, her mouth opens slightly, and- while I have the chance, what with Faith’s eyes closed- I allow myself to stare at her lips as smoke curls out from between them and into the air.

Faith’s doing this on purpose, I just know it.

Taking the joint between her plump, delectable (okay, okay) lips for one more hit, she gestures a “come here” motion at me. When she finishes, she holds it out for me to take, a light smile on her face.

Yeah. I’ll probably regret this.

-

“Oh my god, I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dyin’, B.”

“Am too.” Sprawled out on my stomach, face buried in Faith’s pillow, I turn to look at her through hooded eyes as she grabs the TV remote and sits next to me.

She gives me a once-over and smirks. 

I whine wordlessly. “You’re so mean.” My face buries into the pillow again. “I know what dying feels like and this is definitely it.”

“B, you’re definitely not dying,” Faith replies. “You’re just high, and ain’t used to it yet.” I feel her place a hand on my lower back. “Come on, babe,” she says. “Sit up and have a sip of water; you’ll feel better.”

Letting out a series of displeased moans, I roll over and let her help me to a sitting position. She hands me the bottled water, to which I gratefully swallow half before handing it back and leaning into the pillows behind me.

Faith settles just next to me and presses a button on the television remote. The TV starts up slowly, so I let my gaze drift to the brunette at my side.

It doesn’t even occur to me that I’m ogling her so openly. But she doesn’t notice, because her hands move to her neck as she begins to untie her bowtie choker.

“Ohmygodnooo,” I whine again, my words streaming together as I reach to grab one of her wrists. 

Faith raises her eyebrow. “Why are you stopping me from taking off my bowtie?”

Had I been any degree of… well, less stoned, I would have cringed at my reply: “Because it’s sexy. Leave it on.”

I turn to the TV as a channel appears, so I don’t catch the look on her face. 

“K then,” she says, and lays next to me with a light chuckle.

Normally, I’d beg Faith to turn something else on- or steal the remote myself, and switch the channel- when she has on South Park. It’s the most ridiculous show, and I tell her that all the time when I find her watching it with Kennedy and Xander. It’s horrendous, immature, offensive and definitely not funny.

But of course, I’m high. And now I understand why it’s such a popular show.

We’re watching it for maybe ten minutes, and I’m confused as all hell as the cartoon style switches from the “normal” style I’ve always seen to the Japanese anim-ee.. Anime… whatever that I see one of the new girls named Satsu watching all the time. I’ve figured out that the kids on the show are pretending to be Japanese warriors of some kind when it happens.

The show is styled in the “anime” design, and they’re pretending to fight or something- the little boys on the show- when one of them chucks a throwing star at the other. It suddenly turns back to the original cartoon style, and I don’t really know why I’m laughing, but I am.

Faith is looking over at me, smiling. “Buffy,” she chuckles. “Why the hell are you laughing right now?”

“You didn’t…” I can barely choke out a word between the giggles- “You didn’t see that?” 

Tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I laugh harder when I look over to see Faith staring at me, her brow furrowed in confusion, as she laughs with me.

Our giggle fit dies down after another minute or two, and I burrow back down into the pillows once more.

“Ugh, I’m dying again. No more gigglies.”

Which sets off more “gigglies”.

“Okay, okay- seriously, I feel icky,” I tell her, and I roll over to cuddle into her side, letting my eyes close.

This is more intimate than we’ve ever been, and my body begins to tingle at the feeling of her against me. Faith moves her arm behind me, wrapping it around my shoulders; and, again, had I been sober, I probably wouldn’t roll completely on top of her like I just finished doing. 

I contemplate rolling back over for a few moments- when I moved over her, she grew extremely tense- but she relaxes before I do so, and I suppress the urge to moan as I feel her hands start to caress my back and shoulders.

We’re quiet for several minutes. South Park fades into the background as I listen to both of our hearts beating rapidly against each other, though I’m unsure if Faith’s is really beating as fast as mine or if I’m imagining it. I can feel myself getting warmer- in more ways than one- at our current position, and I don’t know if it’s better to believe that the heat I feel on my upper thigh, emanating from between her legs, is real or another figment of imagination.

I’m just about to either run, pass out, or grab and kiss her when she speaks up.

“B?”

“Mm.”

“You wanna try a shotgun?”

I lift my head to look at her. “Wha’s that?”

Faith doesn’t reply; instead, she leans over to grab the remainder of the joint out of the ashtray, and slips her fingers into her breast pocket again.

Which is right next to my face.

Faith’s breasts are literally in my face right now.

I’m about to lose it when Faith turns away to light the joint. She inhales deeply, sets the smoldering joint in the ashtray, and turns to me.

Her eyes search mine for a moment, a silent question in her gaze. I didn’t truly know what she was about to do- but maybe I did, because Faith seems to find her answer. Her fingertips slide under my chin, and she cups it lightly, her thumb moving to my bottom lip to urge my mouth open. I watch her lips as they part slightly, and then she leans forward and presses her open mouth to mine.

I subconsciously suck in the breath that she exhales into my mouth, the burn of the smoke barely registering paired with the feeling of her lips against mine. Several seconds pass before either of us moves again, and Faith’s mouth closes lightly, her tongue lightly brushing my upper lip before she pulls away.

The desire in her eyes- hell, in the burning heat I feel coming from her skin- pretty much sets me aflame. My hands slide up, tangling in her dark curls, and we’re already breathless as our mouths meet again and our tongues move slow and wet against each other.

Faith tightens her hold around my waist, rolling us over until I lie just under her. She clasps our hands and moves them upward, gently pinning them on the pillow above my head, as she stares down at me.

Her hair- cut shorter just a few months ago, barely brushing her shoulders- is wild, and rests on only one side of her face. Mouth open, she pants lightly, and her chest heaves with each breath. Eyes that are normally brown are now pitch black. Faith looks as if she’s about to devour me.

So I arch into her, bringing a leg around her waist, and pull her back down.

Our kisses are wet, hungry, as she presses her body into mine. I respond by grinding the thigh still intermingled with hers into her heat. A moan escapes from deep in her throat.  
She brings one hand into my hair, tugging lightly as her mouth dips below my ear. Faith’s tongue leaves a hot, wet trail along my pulse point before she pulls the skin into her mouth, suckling lightly. It’s my turn to moan, and I pull my hands from hers to tangle them into her hair.

Faith burns her way down my throat with her tongue, nipping at my skin here and there while she moves lower. I feel like I’m nearly on fire with my need for her, the sensations of every touch, lick and suck amplified from the pot we’d smoked. 

A hand pulls my sleeveless dress down, and I barely register the cool air that hits my breast before Faith sucks my hardened nipple into the heat of her mouth. I moan once more, my eyes closing as one hand finds its way along her waist and the other twists in her hair.

I refuse to relinquish all of the control, however. Faith pulls my nipple between her teeth and slips her tongue back and forth, and it only makes me lose focus for a second, and my other hand at her waist continues its journey.

Before she realizes what’s happening, my hand slips under the waistband of her dress pants. She finally gasps as my fingers move her panties aside, and then meet no friction as they slide smooth into her wet heat.

“Oh, fuck,” I hear Faith breathe, in a deep moan. She’s hovering above me, and her hips now grind against my hand- desperate for more contact. Her expression is frantic with need as she stares down at me.

I move my fingers over her clit, watching her shudder and moan again, and I let my other hand drift down to her button up vest. Part of me wants to rip it open, anxious to feel her breasts against my palm and my mouth, but hell, I like this vest. I want many more opportunities to take it off in the future.

So I make quick work of the top two buttons, enough to push it aside and free her right breast, while I tease two fingers at her opening. Faith’s hand covers mine as it moves over her nipple, and she rolls her hips enough to practically impale herself on my fingers. I let out an appreciative whimper as she moans herself; a loud and strangled sound that I can feel vibrate through her body.

Curling my fingers inside her, I know she’s already close. My hand is drenched in her desire, and I can feel the steady pulse of her muscles grow more rapid as they tighten around my fingers. Her head is bowed, but I can see her eyes shut tight and her lips parted in the slack of her jaw as she gasps, moans under my ministrations; one hand grips mine over her breast, and the other clutches the fabric of my dress.

It’s a sight that leaves me breathless, too, and I’m impatient to feel her, watch her, as she comes. So I pull Faith to me, suckling her nipple into my mouth. My fingers work quicker inside her, curling hard and fast against the sweet spot of her pussy, and she desperately grinds her aching clit against the palm of my hand. 

Faith clutches me hard against her when her muscles start to spasm. “God, Buffy,” she cries out, her hips rocking hard against my hand and thigh. She rides my fingers, and her orgasm, for a few long moments, and then she’s gasping out small whimpers as her body starts to relax. I release her breast from my mouth just as she collapses against me, her face nuzzled into my hair and neck.

I slip my fingers from her gently, and she lets out another tiny gasp before stifling a moan by sinking her teeth into my shoulder, making me hiss at the contact. But it feels good, and I need more of it, so I push her harder into my shoulder.

Instead of tightening the grip of her teeth on my skin, like I wanted her to, Faith pulls away. A moan of disappointment at the loss of her mouth bubbles up in my chest, but as she draws back, I see her eyes again- still onyx with lust. Her hand moves around the wrist that is still half buried in her pants and she slips it out. I want to whimper at the feeling of my fingers leaving her wet heat; then, when she suckles those fingers beyond her lips and keeps her eyes on me the whole time she does it, I do whimper.

Suddenly, it’s no longer gentle. No more sensuous touches, or light nips on each other’s skin.

No, now Faith is practically ripping my dress off of me- maybe she’s thinking the same I did about her vest, or she knows it was a little pricey, because she doesn’t let it actually tear. But not even two seconds pass before she tosses it to the floor and her lips find my breast again.

My hands find their way back into her dark locks; then I move one down to continue unbuttoning her vest. Faith catches my eyes, and releases my nipple with a “pop” of lost suction, moving to pull my hand from her clothing.

But I don’t relent, and I arch up into her. “I want to feel you against me,” I breathe out. The look in her eyes turns primal.

She lets me remove her vest, and we get lost in each other’s lust found in our gazes. I’m drowning in the dark pools of desire emanating from her, so much so that I don’t notice her hand between my legs until she lightly rolls my clit between her fingers.

The force of my hips jerking underneath her could have knocked anyone else off of the bed- but strong and sure are Faith’s thighs, moving underneath both of mine and bending my knees at her waist. She watches, mesmerized, as my eyes slam shut and moans escape my throat while her fingers explore my heat. 

Faith’s touch is agonizingly slow, and I find myself rolling my hips toward her for more friction several times. But she doesn’t relent. She just continues to play with the liquid fire between my legs and watch as I grow crazy under her ministrations.

“Faith,” I moan, a desperate plea as I grip her wrist and push my hips harder against her fingers. Her free hand pins my hips to the bed, still choosing to tease me. She moves forward and captures my lips with her own hot, wet mouth; we moan in unison as her body slides along mine and her nipples brush my own hardened nubs.

Fingers still slipping along my clit, Faith sucks my tongue into her mouth, and runs her own along the length. This continues for a few moments, and then she slows, giving me a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses before moving back down my body.

I watch as her eyes move down to my core, and she pulls her hand free only to put both on my hips, slide her fingers under both sides of my panties, and glide them down my legs.

So I move my own hands to her hips and help her out of her pants and panties, and barely allow her to slip her feet free before I slide a thigh between hers and pull her flush against me. Faith moans, swearing under her breath, and I think I mumbled something unintelligent; the dripping heat of both of us mixes together as she settles above me. Her hands grip my hips, and she rolls hers downward, causing the most perfect friction as her pussy slips wet against mine.

Some far away thought about wanting to take it a little more slowly, to savor the feeling of Faith’s body- Faith’s desire, hot and wet and open against mine- crosses my mind. But as she pulls my thigh up over the crook of her elbow and gives the inside of my knee a short nip, still grinding her hot center into mine, I suddenly forget the definition of the word “slow”.

My nails dig into her thigh at my side, and she presses her mouth, open and gasping, against mine again. We’re swallowing each other’s pants, whimpers, moans as the bucking of her hips becomes more desperate. Faith rests her arm over my chest and places her hand at the side of my face, pulling her lips barely a breath away from mine.

“Come for me, Buffy,” she gasps.

And, almost as if Faith could have flipped a switch, I’m crying out hard into the bedroom. I don’t know when exactly she starts to come too, but I know she is as she grasps me hard against her, and I hear my name spill from her lips like a mantra.

We both melt into each other as our bodies start to calm. Faith nuzzles my hair and neck again, like she did the first time she came, her hands still soft against my face and thigh as she starts to let her fingers stroke my skin.

There’s a long, peaceful silence between us as we catch our breath and let the wild gallop of our hearts slow to a steady beat, flush against each other’s chest.

Maybe five, ten minutes pass that we just hold each other; neither intent on letting go any time in the near future. But Faith’s cell phone goes off, and she wiggles toward the edge of the bed to reach into her pants and retrieve it.

“Yeah?” Her husky burr, still slightly breathless from our earlier activities, still sends a shiver through me.

“Yo,” I recognize Kennedy’s voice on the other line, “If you guys are done having sex now, Willow and I would really like to know where the plane tickets are- you know, for our honeymoon.”

Faith shoots me a look. If she was expecting me to be surprised, or horrified, that Kennedy heard us, she certainly doesn’t find it. She chuckles at my sleepy, sheepish grin.

“Yeah, K. Just a sec- I’ll bring it to your room.”

I hear a scoff through the phone line. “And let the pot smell and the sex air out into the hallway? No, thank you. I need my brain unscrambled to have my own sexy times in the near future, thank you very much,” Kennedy jokes. “Just stick ‘em under the doorway.”

The line goes dead, and Faith tosses her phone onto the nightstand before grabbing the tickets- a wedding gift from all of us- from the top drawer. I take this opportunity to ogle the hell out of her gorgeous body as she saunters over to the door and bends- holy Christ- to nudge the tickets under the door.

When she turns, I have no shame in her catching the ogling, and she knows it. She smirks, and crawls back up onto the bed slowly, a hand running up the side of my body. I shiver, my eyes glued to her as the way she moves reminds me of the graceful stalk of a panther.

“Slayer hearing’s a bitch sometimes, huh?” Faith breathes into my ear, pulling the lobe between her teeth.

I’m about to come up with some clever retort, and then her hand nudges my legs apart, and she buries a finger inside my heat.

“Hnggggh,” I manage to croak out. She chuckles in my ear again. I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay with losing focus this easily; as long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing.  
Her tongue slides along my pulse point. “What do you say, B?”

A gasp is my first response. Then I decide it’s my turn to have some fun, so I flip us over- Faith now nestled underneath me- and pin her arms above her.

When I catch sight of her- breath growing heavy once more, skin flushed and slick with sweat- my heart skips a beat. Then I look down at the choker still around her neck.

“I don’t know, but I really like that bowtie,” I tell her, and slide my fingers between her skin and the satin of the tie to pull her back to my lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do tell me what you thought of this one. I worked hard on it, and am proud. :3


	19. Message in the Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, fluffy lil thing :)
> 
> Prompt #21: Confidence

It was on the sidewalk, hands covered in chalk as you drew silly patterns on the concrete with Kayla Jade and B was talking with Willow at the front porch, when you knew how to ask her.

You’d been mulling this over for literal months. With B, you’ve become more and more sure of yourself and the love between the both of you; so why did this make you so nervous? There were tons of ways to do it; you’d done a hell of a lot of research online, looking for ideas.

Scooting closer to Kayla Jade, you throw a quick glance at your love and her Wiccan friend, making sure they were occupied. You lean in and write a little note to Kayla Jade on the sidewalk- damn if this kid couldn’t read already.

When she gasps and squeals in happiness, your heart jumps; you brush away the chalk, and write again.

_Shh, baby, gotta keep Mommy and Auntie B from knowing, okay?_

You meet Buffy’s gaze. “Kids, huh?” Shoot her a quick smile, and turn back to the smiling five year old at your side, once again brushing away the words you’d written to make room for a few more.

The two of you, thick as thieves, work on your project for awhile- maybe 15 minutes, and as soon as you’re making the finishing touches, Andrew peeks his head out the front door:

“Lunch is ready, guys!”

And you roll your eyes at the geek, who’s honestly grown on you in these past six years. You see Red and B moving to get up, and Kayla Jade stands and whispers (yeah, you taught her to whisper low enough to evade even Slayer hearing): “Will Auntie B like our art?” You smile. “Heck yes, Kiddo. Thank you for helping.”

“Is she gonna say yes, you think?” The gorgeous brunette says, her articulation much more mature than her age.

You look up at her, bringing a hand to aforementioned dark locks and tussle her hair; “I hope so, KJ. I really do.”

Red and B walk toward you.

“You coming for lunch, sweetie?”

Kayla Jade runs toward her mom. “Yes, Mommy! We’re havin’ sammiches!”

You maneuver yourself in front of your artwork, meeting B before she turns toward the door.

“I know she will,” KJ says; you look at her, confused, then meet her eyes as she smiles at you, then runs ahead of Willow into the house.

Red looks back at you and B: “You guys coming too?”

You nod. “Yeah,” and head for the door, entangling your fingers with B’s.

But you stop after the door shuts, and turn to the beauty at your side. Both of your hands move to her face, and you press your lips in a silken kiss against Buffy’s. Pulling back only slightly, you stare into her gorgeous hazel eyes.

“I love you, Buffy,” you begin. “You are everything I could have ever dreamed of. You’re the first person to love me and not expect anything in return.” Pausing to kiss her once more, you move to space yourself between her again. “You are literally the fucking world to me, B.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Faith..” She kisses you again. “I love you more than I could ever put into words.”

You move out of the way of the drawing. “Lemme show you what we made.”

Helping B around to the right side of your work, you watch her as she reads the words. She looks up at you, and her eyes are sparkling with tears. “Faith…”

You hold her gaze, grasp her hand and pull her closer. “Will you?”

Buffy pulls you into a passionate kiss, her hands tangling into your hair. When she pauses to let you both catch your breath, she whispers: “Is that enough of a ‘yes’ for you, Fai?” You smile. You kiss her again, and you pull her into your arms.

And you slide the thin band from your pocket, take her hand, slip the ring on her finger. She gasps at the diamond encrusted sterling, and she kisses you again.

Neither of you pull apart until you hear Kayla Jade: “I told you she would say yes, Auntie Fai!”


	20. Happiness in the Form of a Blonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Apologies that chapter updates are now taking a bit longer than I’d hoped; I just began a creative writing class, and that’s pretty much squeezing 99% of the creativity out of me for the most part.
> 
> Also, in addition, I have been considering turning this into mainly a Faith-centric series instead of Buffy/Faith. Yeah, it’s pretty much already Faith-centric, but what I mean by that is: I’ve been considering other pairings. Faith/Willow, Faith/Giles, etc etc. It’s very hard to stick to Buffy/Faith in terms of brainstorming new plotlines- there’s only so many I can do. I definitely should be poking around in AU a bit more, but I digress… Anywho, I have yet to decide on sticking with Fragments for other pairings or doing a companion series. Let me know if you guys are cool with other possible pairings or if you’d rather I do so in a different fic. I definitely have been considering writing longer/multi-chapter stories within Fragments and the prompt table I’m using.
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy. Please do leave some feedback!
> 
> Prompt #22: Happiness

For Faith, the term “happiness” has never been one she’d use to describe any particular time of her life, let alone overall. Misery had been a constant in her twenty-two years; it’s all she’d known since she was old enough to be affected by emotion.

Until the age of fifteen, Faith’s life had been anything but happy. She knew her mother hadn’t been an addict until she turned about six years old, but of course, she had been too young to remember anything of importance. She does remember, however, how her “friends” had refused to come to her eighth birthday party because they were scared of her mom. She remembers, a few weeks after she turned 10, her mom’s boyfriend- how he never seemed to take a shower, or wash his clothes, and always smelled like cigarettes, motor oil and body odor- whipping her with his belt for spilling a can of soda. Faith remembers trying not to gag when a few days later he crawled over her and forced his way inside.

Faith tells Buffy that she thinks she might have been happy the few months that she was living with her first Watcher, after spending nearly a year stealing and hooking on the streets of Boston, one homeless shelter to another. But she never had the chance to realize this before Kakistos killed her Watcher and ran her out of town.

The elder slayer was saddened to find out Faith had not been happy during her time in Sunnydale. Faith explained it was hard for her to be on the outside of the Scoob’s circle, and that even when she had the Mayor’s affection, she still felt lost. Alone.

As Faith lies with her head nestled on Buffy’s shoulder, sprawled across the blonde, arms tight around her, she describes the weird feeling of peace she had in prison. How, that first night, she’d probably slept better than she had since falling into the sense of security provided by her first Watcher. Faith tells her she had felt a calm contentment while in Los Angeles and Sunnydale to help Angel and then aid in the fight with the First, respectively.

When Buffy asks Faith if she’s happy, right here and right now- no matter what’s happened in the past- Faith raises her head lightly to look into the blonde’s bright green eyes.

“That night after the battle, when we got to Angel’s and you came to talk to all of us, I was scared- afraid you’d tell me you didn’t want me there anymore,” the brunette pauses, her hand stroking Buffy’s soft features in the light of the early morning sun. She smiles lightly, recalling the nervousness she felt when that very night, she’d been heading to her chosen bedroom of the hotel and heard Buffy call out for her. Faith didn’t know what to expect- would Buffy insult her, hit her, tell her no one wanted her around?- but it certainly wasn’t Buffy leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek, a whispered “thank you” and a smile before turning to leave.

“After you kissed me, I’d felt something I didn’t exactly know how to describe,” Faith explains. “And then you started to want to hang out, and talk with me… It wasn’t until the night I finally said “fuck it” and kissed you that I realized it was happiness.”

Buffy smiles that brilliant smile Faith loves so much, and pulls her down to press her lips gently across the other Slayer’s. When she pulls back, she tightens her grip around Faith’s middle and lightly smooths a hand across Faith’s jaw.

“I’m sorry it took so long to quit being an asshole,” Buffy says. At Faith’s confused look- the one Buffy adores more than words- she continues: “I was so wrapped up in my own life to notice how much you needed me the first time around.”

But Faith just shakes her head, and places a soft kiss at the tip of Buffy’s nose. “Don’t worry about that, B. It’s in the past.” She moves her lips to the blonde’s cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When Faith pulls her in for another kiss, she thanks the gods for this, for Buffy, and Buffy’s love- and how every shitty thing that she’d dealt with for most of her life had been leading to this. All of the pain she’s been through? It prepared her for the life and love of the goddess beneath her.


End file.
